


Let Him Live

by SilverRayan



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-26
Updated: 2012-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 03:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverRayan/pseuds/SilverRayan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Springer is devastated when his mate breaks their bond without warning. The Wreckers, seeing the pain the broken bond has caused their leader, are out for blood. Hot Rod is just happy he was able to save Springer, even though he has no way to save himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

This fic was inspired by kirin_saga's bunny (#27) found at .com/tf_bunny_?view=1678399#t1678399.

I do not own transformers. They belong to Hasbro.

\----------

Hot Rod groaned. He was sure that there had been times in his life when he had felt worse, but he was having a hard time remembering when they could have been. Vortex was ruthless. He had started the process simply by talking to him, telling him everything that had happened since his capture and subsequent stasis lock. The sadist seemed to take great delight in telling him about all the hot spots the Wreckers had been sent to, and the conditions that they, Springer especially, ended up in.

Hot Rod and Springer's bond was common knowledge, due to an unfortunate leak in security that had allowed a spy to obtain that little tidbit of information and carry it back to the Decepticons. As a result, Hot Rod had been placed under base arrest for his protection. Springer was one of the best warriors the Autobots had, and they could not afford to have him taken off duty. Nor could the Wreckers allow any weakness, namely Hot Rod, be used against him. So the young Autobot had been confined. It hadn't taken long before he was bored out of his processor and looking for something to do. When Inferno had forced Red Alert away from his cameras for an energon break, it left Hot Rod with a few moments to sneak out the front entrance to the Ark. No one had noticed he was gone until it was too late.

He hadn't meant to go so far, but speeding through the desert, enjoying the sun on his plating had made him lose all sense of time and direction. He didn't even notice the Seeker trine until it was too late. Which led to his current situation, as an unwilling guest in the Decepticon brig.

It had taken everything he had not to react to Vortex's taunts about his bonded. Springer always muted the bond while on missions so that he wouldn't hurt the younger bot if he was injured. This meant that Hot Rod had no way to know whether or not the jabs were real. For his sanity's sake, he pretended they were not. After a while, Vortex had gotten bored with his lack of response and moved onto other games. He started with gently running his hands up and down the fiery bot's plating, in a mockery of a lover's caress. Though sick with revulsion, Hot Rod did not let his emotions show. It turned out that not only were the gentle touches a psychological ploy, they also served to stimulate Hot Rod's sensory grid, making him extra receptive to touch. Every strike of the whip, every armoured plate that the Decepticon peeled from his body...the pain was felt tenfold. The young mech did his best not to cry out, to not show weakness, but after the fifth strike of the whip he couldn't handle it. He screamed. Not too long after that, he passed out.

They had left him lying on the floor of his cell, in too much agony to move. His chassis felt tight, and he was having trouble circulating air through his intake valve. Rolling onto his side, he tried to fight the pain as coughs racked his body. A half processed lump of energon came up, pushing against his throat. He choked for a moment, before managing to clear his airway. He vaguely realized that energon was not supposed to come back up once consumed, but could hardly bring himself to care. All he wanted to do now was go to sleep, and never wake up again, if possible. His optics grew hazy, and he prepared to settle down into oblivion. He would have to apologize to Springer. The triplechanger never liked it when he went into recharge while he was injured. It was like he was afraid that his young mate would not wake up again. Wait... Springer! The thought of his bondmate had Hot Rod jerking back to consciousness. He couldn't give up and let go, it would hurt his lover too much. Even with the bond muted he would feel Hot Rod die, and if Springer was on the battlefield, that could cost him his life too. And if he knew where Hot Rod was he would no doubt try to rescue him, even if he was injured. The Autobot thought frantically, trying to find a way out of this mess, or at least, a way to end it so that he wouldn't hurt his beloved mate. He was pulled from his thoughts however when the energy bars deactivated, admitting Vortex and Megatron into the cramped cell. A twisted smile adorned the helicopter's faceplates as he examined the beaten Autobot.

"Well, Scraplet, are you ready for round two?" Hot Rod eyed the mechs warily. He was afraid of Vortex of course, but the fact that Megatron had come to see him was beyond terrifying. Megatron noticed the fear in the mech's optics, and chuckled cruelly.

"I suppose you are wondering why I am here to deal with a pathetic brat such as yourself, hm? Well, although you are not much of a challenge, your mate and his little crew have been a thorn in my side for vorns, so I am here to witness his destruction. I know that you have blocked your bond, but there will come a time when you will be unable to keep it shut and when that happens, your little lover will know exactly what is done to you. He will feel as we take you apart, one piece at a time. He will feel your spark pulsing uselessly, trying to keep you alive. And he will feel as you slowly succumb to death, and the agony that accompanies you to the Pit. It will be easy to destroy him after that, if your death doesn't kill him first. And without their glorious leader, the rest of the Wreckers will be easy to pick off."

'No. No. No.' I was like a mantra, echoing through Hot Rod's head. They were going to kill him. That much he had already figured out. But they were going to use his death to kill Springer and the rest of the Wreckers too, and that was unacceptable. There had to be something he could do. Something that would stop them from harming his beloved, and his beloved friends. But what? The orange and red mech knew that he was going to die. Even if the others knew where he was, there was no way they could mount a rescue in time to save him, but what could he do to save the others? Short of breaking the bond there was nothing. Wait... break the bond. It would be painful on both ends, but it would save Springer's life. He remembered Kup saying that the process was extremely painful, which was why most mechs and femmes chose not to go through with it, even if they no longer loved their bonded. The pain would hopefully be fleeting though, and Springer would live. That was all that mattered. Springer had to live. He couldn't die because Hot Rod had been too restless to stay at the base like he was supposed to.

Decision made, the flame speckled mech concentrated on gathering every shred of Springer in his mind and spark into one compressed little ball in the corner of his mind. He forced that ball as far back into the depths of his processor as he could, before erecting a wall to keep it in place. Then he activated a mind purge. Mind purges were used only to get rid of sensitive information before it fell into wrong hands. It was stronger than simply deleting the file, as deleting always left a back up copy. There could be no copies of Springer left, or they might still be able to get him. As the program began to forcefully expel the quarantined section from his mind, Hot Rod felt white hot flames envelope his processor.

\----------

Megatron and Vortex watched in confusion as the Autobot began to convulse, weakly grasping at his processor. Megatron caught on first, and seized the young bot by the throat, shaking him hard in attempt to disrupt the sequence. It was too late, however. As the fire abated in Hot Rod's mind, his vision slowly came back into focus. He could see the furious Decepticon lord, and feel him grasping his neck, but it was detached, as though he was dreaming. The emptiness in his spark was overwhelming, but Hot Rod felt strangely content.

"Can't hurt him now." Megatron let out a bellow of rage, and threw Hot Rod across the cell. He hit the wall and slid to the ground. The silver mech stalked over to the dazed mech, growling angrily.

"That was very unwise Autobot. You will come to find that you have made your situation far, far worse that it was going to be. " Turning back to Vortex, he said, "Do what you will with him. He is yours now." Vortex giggled, but Hot Rod didn't hear him. Mercifully, he had passed out.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Thank you all so much for your responses! I am happy to see that people are enjoying this story. A warning for this chapter, Springer is probably out of character, and I apologize to anyone who dislikes that, but it's needed for this story. Oh, and I was thinking of Ajremix's "What's Wrong with a Little Destruction?" when I was writing this. I love that story, and highly recommend reading it if you get a chance.

Once again, I do not own Transformers. They are the property of Hasbro, much to my chagrin.

Chapter 2

"Hold still, damn you! Ratchet will kill me if I end up welding this back together wrong. Why I have to be the one to take the reports in to the Ark's medical bay every slagging time we land is beyond me."

"You're a medic, 'Spin. It makes sense that you would be the one to discuss the medical logs with our dear CMO." Springer's voice sounded far too amused.

"That's slag. All of you have field medic training, mine's just more advanced. All of you are more than capable of doing the review; you just don't want to put up with his temper."

"and we are not the ones who want to get into his berth. You can't deny that the only time you get alone with him is when you pass over our logs."

"...And then I spend the rest of the time dodging wrenches because we are nothing more than great big patch jobs that he thinks he needs to fix. I don't think that counts as spending quality "alone time" with him. And that's a lame excuse to get out of seeing him and you know it. Fraggit, Springer, hold still!" Topspin and Springer were the only two in the Medbay. The others had been patched up and returned to duty joors earlier. Springer, having no critical damage, had insisted on being the last one repaired. He had taken a shot to the leg early in the battle, but the damage had been superficial and he had ignored it. Over the course of the fight, the gash had opened up, but not enough to be of any real concern, so he had left it, and allowed the others, all of whom had been worse off than he, to be repaired first. It was a relief that Topspin had finally gotten around to him though. The wound was beginning to tingle, and that spread through his entire body. It was an unpleasant sensation and he was glad that it was being taken care of.

"Yeah, well, you kno –" Springer cut of in mid word, hand reaching up to grab at the plating hiding his spark. It hurt. It wasn't unbearable but it was quickly becoming – oh Primus! White flame enveloped his mind and spark, taking over his body. It felt like a piece of spark was being burned away, consumed by the fire. He couldn't think. He could only writhe in agony as something crucial to his well being was torn away. The fires finally went away, but as they did he wished they would come back. The pain of the flames was so much more preferable than the emptiness in his spark.

"Springer! What the Pit?" Topspin was frantic. His friend had suddenly clutched his chest, before going into convulsions. They had stopped after the medic had managed to pin the bigger mech down to the repair berth, but now he just lay there, a blank look on his face. 'Spin moved to begin checking his friend for anomalies, maybe an injury that he had missed, or poison, or...or something! There had to be a reason for the green mech's sudden attack. As he moved the scanner near his friend, Springer's arm came up and batted it away. His other had remained over his spark. Deciding to give the other mech some space – no matter how much he didn't want to he couldn't force Springer to let him take care of him – he backed off. Keeping an eye on his patient, he began to fill out the required medical reports. As time passed and no change in condition occurred, Topspin decided that enough was enough. Moving towards the berth again, he asked,

Springer? Are you ok?" The green triplechanger had sat, unmoving, with his hand pressed to his spark for the past ten breems, and it was starting to unnerve Topspin. When his question got no response, he paged Roadbuster. He didn't know what was wrong with their leader. He needed to brief the SIC on the drastic change in their leader's condition. While he waited for the other mech to arrive, he began a series of tests, which Springer allowed this time, starting first with an internal scan, which yielded nothing. His vital signs proved to be steady for the most part, but there was an odd fluxuation in his spark rhythm. He moved to set up a monitor, just as the doors slid open. Roadbuster strode in. Although his tone was professional, there was no misreading the worry on his faceplates.

"I can't see anything wrong with him externally, but maybe that last battle rattled his circuits worse than we thought. We need to move him to the medbay so I can run a more thorough scan." A deep, slightly hysterical laugh drew the attention back to the seemingly unresponsive mech.

"You can't help me," his voice was low, rough, like he hadn't used it for a long time. "He's gone. I can't feel him anymore. Even you can't fix a spark 'Spin."

"Gone? You mean Hot Rod? Is he ok? Maybe he just blocked the bond for a mission. They can't keep him locked up forever, you know. He's not offline is he?" Springer shook his head. Roadbuster was relieved. He liked the kid well enough. Hot Rod was a bit immature, but he was good for Springer. More so than the younger mech even knew. The Wreckers had a dangerous job. They moved for one danger zone to another, and not only saw, but committed acts that no other mech was willing to do. The jobs needed to be done, but they were hard on the psyche and most mechs and femmes would have been killed or gone insane if they were in the Wreckers' position. Even the Wreckers themselves did not get away without damage. All of them sought anchors to the real world, something to keep a hold of when the sea of energon and guilt became too much. Springer's anchor was Hot Rod. His cheerfulness, optimism, and naivety and love never failed to make Springer feel better and help him release the burden he was forced to bear. For that alone, the Wreckers would always protect the kid, even if he could never understand why.

"He broke the bond."

"WHAT?" The other two nearly shouted. Springer flinched.

"He broke it. There is nothing there when there used to be everything. He's gone." There was silence for a moment, before Topspin spoke up.

"I need to put you into temporary stasis lock, until we know whether or not the break has caused any damage." Springer nodded, seeming to come back to himself. Neither Roadbuster nor Topspin was fooled. They knew what the racer meant to their friend, and though they did not understand the pain that he was in, they knew it was bad. Pain like that did not just go away.

Topspin quickly set up an energon drip, and mixed sedatives with the nourishment. The drugs began to take effect almost immediately, knocking Springer out. After he was sure the mech was unconscious, the medic located a switch on the right hip. Turning it on, he sent most of the green mech's systems into stasis. Turning to Roadbuster, he said,

"I know you want to talk to the others, but I need to stay here and monitor him. I'll let you know if anything changes." Nodding briskly, Roadbuster left the medbay.

"Xantium, direct the others to meet me on the bridge." The ship acknowledged him quietly, paging the others. Although she did not sound upset, the slight thrumming beneath his feet proved that the sentient ship was just as angry as he was. The SIC smiled darkly. Hot Rod had better have a damn good excuse for hurting Springer the way he did or, as the humans say, there would be hell to pay.

The temporary commander was pleased to find the rest of the Wreckers already on the bridge when he arrived. All of them looked confused, and Whirl was obviously annoyed at having his recharge interrupted. They got so little of it as it was. That changed quickly as he explained the situation. By the time he was done talking most of them lookd furious. Scoop, however was unsure.

"Well, maybe we're jumping to conclusions. If he went on a mission and was captured, then maybe he's just trying to prevent Springer from being hurt. Why don't we just call Prime and ask what happened?" Tempers cooled a little bit after that, but none of them would be happy until they knew the truth. Springer was not only their leader and idol, he was their friend, and if he was unhappy, the Wreckers were unhappy.

"Twin Twist, send a communication beacon to the Ark. Priority one." The driller nodded, and immediately set up the communication array. A few kliks after that they were patched through to the Ark. Red Alert's face filled the monitor. It was obvious that he was agitated.

"What is it?" The curt tone made it abundantly clear that all was not right with the Ark. Twin Twist ignored this.

"I need to speak with Hot Rod. It's an emergency." Red Alert glared.

"We haven't found him yet. He snuck out of the Ark two Earth days ago. We haven't seen him since. Was there anything else you needed?" The SD was growing continuously more agitated as the conversation continued.

"No, that's all." Red Alert nodded, and then cut communication. Back at the Ark, the search and rescue mech began drawing up forms that detailed Hot Rod's desertion. If the Wreckers had no idea where he was then there was no other solution than abandonment.

Roadbuster carefully controlled his fury. So the brat was gone, and destroyed a bond that meant everything to his mate. Traitor or not, or whether he just couldn't handle the war anymore didn't matter.

"Whirl, check incoming missions. If we have none, request a temporary leave of absence. Scoop, plot a course for Earth. We're going hunting."


	3. Chapter 3

Bluestreak waited anxiously at the entrance of the Ark. Jazz and Prowl would be back soon and they would make this right. His surrogate creators always knew what to do. Red Alert had declared Hot Rod a deserter, because no one has seen him in days, and the Wreckers didn't know where he was. But that didn't make sense. Why wouldn't the Wreckers know where he was? Hot Rod always...Wait there they are! Bluestreak transformed and shot out into the desert towards the oncoming mechs.

"Jazz Prowl thank Primus you're back! Hot Rod left the Ark six days ago and no one has seen him and the Wreckers don't know where he is, which is weird, because he's bonded to Springer, and he always tells me how much it hurts when Springer closes the bond, you know, because then he doesn't know what's going on and he's afraid for Springer, so he wouldn't close his own bond like that because he hates it when Springer does it. And now Red Alert has declared him a deserter, and I don't think that's true, because Hot Rod always tells me how much he wants to help end this war, and he's never once mentioned wanting to leave, not even in passing, and Prime hasn't done anything to find him, and Hot Rod is my best friend so I know he's in trouble and NO ONE CARES!"

The black and white mechs, well used to the young gunner's rambling, listened in amusement at first, but as they absorbed the words their good humor quickly turned sour. Bluestreak was really upset, and both Datsun and Porsche agreed that there was little chance that the young mech hand abandoned the cause he was so loyal to. There was also the matter of Hot Rod's bond. Prowl and Jazz had both seen how hard it was on the young mech when Springer shut him out. Ho Rod didn't care if he felt pain when Springer was hurt, so long as he knew his mate would survive. Springer thought that he was protecting his young mate though, and Hot Rod never said anything to the contrary. Just as Bluestreak said, Hot Rod wouldn't shut Springer out, not unless he had a very good reason to.

Prowl reviewed everything that the grey mech had told them as they travelled back to the Ark. Hot Rod was a good kid, but he was still a rather inexperienced fighter, and unfamiliar with Earth's geography. He was also a target, as the enemy would take any chance they had to get at Springer. He had been put under a security watch, and was supposed to train with fighters like Ironhide and the Twins until the officers were sure that he could handle himself They wanted him to be able to survive even if he found himself alone, surrounded by Decepticons. Had that been explained to Hot Rod though? Prowl cursed that he and Jazz had had to leave on a diplomatic assignment that Prime was unable to do before the details with Hot Rod's confinement had been settled. Both he and Jazz looked after the young mech after he had become fast friends with Bluestreak. They found him to a polite, friendly kid, though he lacked the combat experience that Bluestreak had. The only action he had seen was minor scuffles for territory on Cybertron. Both mechs worried for the youngster, but Blue had promised to help him train, and had even gotten Sunstreaker and Sideswipe to spar with them on a few occasions. Knowing Hot Rod, it was far more likely that he had simply gotten bored of staying in the Ark, and decided to take a few hours to himself outside, rather than deserting the cause.

While Prowl ran the possible scenarios over in his processor, his mate was busy trying to calm down Blue.

"Unfortunately Blue, and this sounds really bad, but it's true, Prime doesn't have time to deal with one lone mech when he was an army to run. Now, I agree that it's unlikely that Hot Rod simply ran away. He's a good kid, and he's stubborn as Pit, so he wouldn't just give up and leave. Prowler and I will talk to Red Alert and get the scoop from him, kay? We'll find Hot Rod, but you panicking isn't going to do him any good, so you need to calm down. Take a couple of big intakes and relax." Bluestreak did as his mentor told him to, cycling air until he felt his struts relax.

"Thanks Jazz, let me know what's going on ok? I have patrol in a few breems so I need to go find Smokescreen and I'm glad you got back before I left."

Jazz watched as the gunner entered the Ark, and moved to follow, but a hand on his arm stopped him. The saboteur turned to his mate in confusion. Though his expression was serene, Jazz could feel the anger radiating from his mate. It was an anger that matched his own. The Autobots prided themselves on being open minded, fair, and just. They believed in second chances, as any ex-Decepticon among the ranks could testify to. So why had they let down Hot Rod so badly?

"Judging from what Bluestreak said, and what we know of Hot Rod, there is a 98% chance that Hot Rod merely got bored with his confinement and left the Ark when the chance came up. There is a 1.68% chance that he was abducted from the Ark itself, and only a 0.32% chance that he abandoned us. Seeing as how Hot Rod has not come back from his jaunt outside the Ark, it is only logical to conclude that he has been captured by Decepticons." Prowl's voice was cool.

"I figured as much babe. What I want to know is why no one even thought to wonder whether or not Hot Rod was abducted."

"I have my suspicions, but I would rather hear it from the crew before I jump to conclusions." Jazz had only seen his mate this upset on two occasions: the first of which had been when they had found Bluestreak amid the ruins of his home, and the second when Jazz had been systematically torn to pieces under Decepticon interrogation. Jazz shuddered, recalling Vortex's expertise and Prowl's apocalyptic rage when they had finally mounted a rescue.

"Prowl to all Autobots: Emergency meeting is to occur in five breems in the main conference room. Anyone who skips this meeting will be sent to the brig for the next fifteen orns. This excludes the mechs on patrol or bridge duty. That is all."

"Normally, I would say fifteen orns is too harsh for missing a meeting love, but in this case, I agree. What we've done to Hot Rod... well, I'm looking forward to seeing what your meeting is going to include." Prowl did not respond, as at the moment he was hailed by Prime.

"What is the meaning of this Prowl? You cannot schedule a meeting on such short notice and expect everyone to make it, nor can the punishments for missing such a meeting be so harsh."

"With all due respect sir, I can and have. In accordance to rule 256, section 1, subsection delta, paragraph 3c, "any commanding officer has the right to assemble a disciplinary meeting to discuss code of conduct, or a violation against another soldier, at his convenience, with any punishment he deems suited to the crime should the mech or femme in question not arrive". My convenience is in five breems and the punishment fits the crime. And no sir, I will not discuss it on an open channel. See you in five breems." Prime listened to his SIC in stunned silence. What crime was Prowl talking about? It had to be serious for his second to take that tone with him. Normally Prowl would have cleared this with him before hand, but in this case Optimus would let it slide. Prowl rarely did anything without a purpose. Sighing, the large mech pushed away from his desk. Best go see what this is about. If Prowl was that angry, there was no telling what the meeting would degenerate into.

"What do you think this is about?" Sideswipe asked his brother.

"No idea. Maybe there was a problem with the mission."

"That makes no sense. Only the senior officers would have to deal with that. He called everyone." And indeed, everyone who was not on patrol had shown up. The conference hall was crowded. Only those who had arrived early had gotten a seat at the table. The rest made due with leaning against the walls or sitting on the floor. Ironhide, Wheeljack, Ratchet, Prime, the Twins, Red Alert, Jazz and Prowl were seated at the table, while Hound, Mirage, Inferno, Blaster and his cassettes, assorted minibots, dinobots, and gesalt mechs spread out across the room. At the five breem mark exactly, Prowl spoke.

"Tell me, what is the purpose of the Autobots?"

"To protect all life, sentient or otherwise, from the Decepticon threat, and to regain control of our home." Bumblebee's recitation was near textbook perfect.

"And what of our comrades? Do we tread on them as though they are nothing? Write them off as trash when there is no evidence to prove otherwise?" There was an uncomfortable silence. Everyone had heard about Hot Rod.

"Look, the little twerp abandoned us. Why should we care about him?"Cliffjumper spoke up. Prowl rounded on him, voice deadly.

"I see. Why is it that that was your first conclusion?" Every mech in the room shivered. None of them had ever seen their SIC like this. Cliffjumper, apparently, did not have any self preservation instincts.

"He left. He didn't come back. What else could have happened?"

"Gee, I don't know...perhaps he was captured by Decepticons?" That last word was hissed out. It sounded like Prowl was restraining himself, but from doing what, no one knew.

"Prowl, Hot Rod left without informing anyone where he was going, and did not send out a distress signal. He waited until there was no one in the monitor room before leaving. The Wreckers called to speak with him, not knowing that he wasn't here. It's pretty clear that he left of his own free will."

"And none of you thought that he might have been bored. Sunstreaker!" Prowl barked out suddenly. The mech in question jumped.

"Yes sir?"

"If you had been placed under containment, if given the chance to leave the Ark without permission, would you have done so?"

"Yes sir." Now was not the time to lie...or give attitude.

"Why would you leave if you were forbidden to do so?" It was obvious the golden twin was reluctant to answer. He didn't dare go against Prowl when he was in a mood like this however.

"...boredom sir. There are only so many times I can spar with the others or go to the weapons range or taunt the minibots before wanting to get out of the Ark." The others had never heard the younger twin speak so politely before.

"You sparred with Hot Rod while he was trapped here, did you not?" Prime inwardly flinched at the term.

"Yes sir. Both Sideswipe and I did, when we had the time."

"In your opinion, could Hot Rod hold off a group of Decepticons by himself, if he were ambushed?"

"No sir. He's a good fighter, and could hold his own against one or two, but not more than that."

"I see. Ironhide, you were ordered to train Hot Rod until he would be able to survive such a situation, were you not?"

"I was."

"How many times did you train him during the six months of his containment?"

"...eight times."

"Why is that?"

"There were seven battles during that time and I had other duties to attend to."

"Duties that were more important than teaching a young mech how to defend himself?" Prowl's tone was acidic, and Ironhide bowed his head in shame.

"Tell me, other than Bluestreak and the twins, how many of you made an effort to hang out with Hot Rod? How many of you tried to keep him from feeling like a prisoner in his own home?" No one said anything.

"I see. So, we have established that Hot Rod, who is unfamiliar with Earth, got bored and left the Ark, as he had nothing to do during confinement. The Decepticons, whether they attacked knowing that Hot Rod is bonded to Springer or because he was a lone target, ambushed him in a group. Hot Rod, as we have also established, is not able to fight such a situation was brought down. So essentially, we have left a young mech in the hands of Decepticons, who could have already killed him by now, and wrote him off as a deserter."

"Prowl, there has been no ransom request from Megatron, nor has he bragged about Hot Rod's capture," Red Alert put in, although he had a sinking feeling in his spark. He had been dealing with other issues at the time of Hot Rod's disappearance, and had not bothered to investigate the matter as thoroughly has he should have. He might have condemned an innocent mech to a fate worse than death.

"Of course he hasn't. No matter what many of you believe, the Decepticons, Megatron especially, are not stupid. If they had said anything we would have mounted a rescue, taking away their link to the Wreckers. Pit, Megatron might have even let his troops keep him to blow off steam, and keep mechs like Starscream busy. So what it comes down to is we, the Autobots who are fighting to save the humans, a race that is not our own, couldn't be bothered to fight to save our comrade. I have never in my life been ashamed to where this symbol," he pointed at the red crest on his chassis, "but I am now. As of right now, all of you are under confinement for two months. You are not to leave your quarters unless you have duties or missions, or there is a battle. We are going to begin an immediate search for Hot Rod. Depending on the condition he is found in, the punishment may be extended. Any objections, Prime?"

"No Prowl. The punishment is fair." Prime's voice was quiet. Inwardly, he was cursing himself. How could he have not noticed? He had been so busy with the recent Decepticon attack and human relations that he had let his attention on the mechs in his army wane. He had not been there when one of them needed him to be, and now Hot Rod was paying the price for his negligence. 'Never again,' he swore. 'I will never allow this to happen again.' He couldn't shake the thought that "never again" did nothing to help Hot Rod now.

"Dismissed." Mechs began to rise from their seats, talking in subdued voices. Many seemed remorseful, and Jazz heard phrases like,

"What we did to him was no better than the way the Decepticreeps behave," and

"How did we miss it? Hot Rod is beyond loyal. He would never abandon us," and

"What have we done?" Only Cliffjumper's band of bots seemed to believe that Hot Rod was a traitor. They were smart enough not to voice their opinions in front of Prowl, however.

'Jazz I need you to check with Prime. Ask him if the Wreckers have requested time off for the next little while, and report back to me.'

'Sure Prowler, whatever you need. Why does it matter though.'

'If my suspicions are correct, then they are going to be furious, and need to be stopped before they reach Earth.'

'Allright, Optimus is just ahead of me. I'll get back to you in a moment.' Jazz's presence retreated from his mind.

"Red Alert, I'd like a word with you." Prowl had not moved from his place at the table, though Jazz had taken his leave. Nodding, Red Alert returned to his seat. He felt miserable. The one time he had not done his job right had led to the current situation. He could blame it on his paranoia glitch, as the first thing he had thought when he noticed the young mech's absence was that Hot Rod was a traitor, but normally he was much more aware of when he faced a real threat. He had no excuse for his mistake, nor would he try to make one. When the room was empty, and Prowl, who had just gotten off his personal comm. link still said nothing, he looked up at the Datsun and asked softly,

"What do you need, Prowl?"

"Exactly what did you tell the Wreckers when they called about Hot Rod?" Red Alert paused, before answering,

"I said "We haven't found him yet. He snuck out of the Ark two Earth days ago. We haven't seen him since." They said they didn't need anything else." Prowl frowned.

"They obviously don't know what's going on with Hot Rod, meaning that it's likely that Hot Rod broke their bond."

"WHAT?" Red Alert was beyond surprised. He may have believed that Hot Rod was a traitor, but it had never crossed his mind that he might break his bond with Springer. Anyone could see the kid was crazy about him, and vice versa.

"An emergency that they need to speak to Hot Rod about would imply a problem with Springer, but that they did not tell you that there was anything wrong indicates that it is a personal issue. If the bond was merely closed like I first thought, they would not declare it an emergency. I have seen the damage that broken bonds cause first hand, and if that is what happened, the Wreckers would take it as a personal attack on their leader, especially if he is incapacitated. Jazz also informed me that the Wreckers have requested a leave of absence, which Prime approved." Reading between the lines, Red understood exactly why the Wreckers wanted the time off. They were extremely protective of each other and did not tolerate any threat or attack against their team.

"Oh frag."

\---------------

Author's note2: I'm not entirely sure if I made the reason why Jazz and Prowl took such an interest in Hot Rod, so if I didn't here's why: Hot Rod became really good friends with Bluestreak, and spends a lot of time with him. As Blue sees Prowl and Jazz as creator figures, he's with them a lot, and introduced them to Hot Rod. Both Prowl and Jazz have gotten to know, and like, him, and know that he would never abandon the Autobots. Hot Rod is also an Autobot, so that should have been reason enough to begin with. So hopefully, that makes sense to y'all.


	4. Chapter 4

It had been four days since the Wreckers had contacted the Ark. Springer had been released from his stasis lock. There was nothing wrong with him physically, but everyone could see the damage the fractured bond had caused. Springer was not holding up well. He had not resumed command of the Wreckers, instead choosing to allow Roadbuster to maintain command. He had not been informed of the manhunt that the Wreckers were planning once they reached Earth, as that would only upset him more. Roadbuster had made it very clear to the others that they were not going to kill Hot Rod, not matter how angry they were with him. Rather, they were going to drag him back to Springer and the other Autobots, to allow them to decide his punishment.

"We've entered Earth's gravitational pull. The estimated time of arrival is twenty breems," Broadside spoke from the pilot's seat.

"Alright. We have to check in with the Autobots first, as that was one of Prime's stipulations in giving us the time off, but after that we have time to ourselves. Springer has said that he wishes to remain on the ship, and Scoop will return here to stay with him after he briefing ends. The rest of us will begin searching the immediate area, and spread out if nothing turns up. Earth, though densely populated is not a large planet. He can't hide forever." Everyone on the bridge could hear the smirk in Roadbuster's voice. Springer was his best friend, and he was looking forward to teaching Hot Rod a lesson.

"Guys, I still think we're missing part of the story. Why would Hot Rod just break off the bond with no warning? I think something bad happened to the kid. We may only be making the situation worse." Scoop had been the only one to believe that there was more to Hot Rod's disappearance than they knew. He had taken the young mech under his proverbial wing, and spent the most time out of all the Wreckers with him, excluding Springer. He knew how loyal the kid was, and how much he wanted to prove himself as a warrior. It didn't make sense that he would just abandon the cause. The others were too angry at the perceived defection, however, to listen. No matter how many times he said it, they wouldn't listen to reason. When no one answered him, Scoop merely sighed. He prayed to Primus that they were not making a mistake.

"Prime, Xantium has landed. Whirl contacted Blaster to let us know that they are on their way for the briefing."

"Thank you Red Alert. Relay that information to Prowl and Jazz. They have control of the meeting."

"Yes sir. Red Alert out." Optimus sighed. Even if he had wanted to take part in the briefing, he could not. Immediately after the morning hearing, Prime had headed to his quarters. He was not on duty after all and all mechs who were not had to return to their quarters. Although Prowl did not have the authority to place him under confinement, the Autobot leader had chosen to suffer the punishment alongside his men. It was only fair, seeing as if he had taken time to check up on his men, the whole fiasco with Hot Rod could have been avoided. For the next two months, his second and third in command had control of the Autobot affairs, and that included dealing with the wayward Wreckers. Optimus was no fool, and he knew exactly why the Elite team had come to Earth. He only hoped that Jazz and Prowl would be able to stop them from doing anything foolish. On the bright side, with the team readily available on Earth, that made an additional six, or seven is Springer was up to it, mechs who could aid in the search for Hot Rod.

Something wasn't right. Instead of being greeted by the usual hustle of the Ark, the Wreckers walked into a ship that seemed to be manned by a skeleton crew. The few mechs they did meet on the way to the command center refused to make optic contact with them, and instead hurried along the corridors with their heads down. The sombre attitude was enough to unnerve even Whirl, who normally preferred the quiet to the loud activity on the Ark. The mechs they passed however had none of the buoyancy the Wreckers were used to. Most of them seemed to be feeling rather...guilty?

"Oh hey guys, there you are Blaster said you were coming, and Prowl thought I should come meet you to tell you that he briefing is in his office because Prime's grounded, well grounded is the right word it's a human word, but Prowl put the whole base under arrest, including Prime, so anyways come with me please!" With that, Bluestreak disappeared down the corridor he had just come from. The Wreckers weren't sure what was more disconcerting: that Bluestreak was cheerful and smiling, or that they were pretty sure the young mech had said the entire base was under arrest. Bemused, they followed after him. A few kliks later, Bluestreak came to a stop. "Ok, well, were here, so you can go in, they know you're coming after all, and, um, Prowl's in a really really bad mood, and I know you guys like annoying him, but don't. Seriously, don't because he might just kill you, well not really but during the meeting earlier today, Sideswipe said that he almost attacked Cliffjumper because he was being a prat, so, um, yeah, I've gotta go bye now!" Blue was halfway down the corridor before the Wreckers had processed what he said. Shrugging off the warning, they entered the office.

Prowl was seated behind the desk, reviewing datapads. He signed one, and stacked it neatly in the completely pile before picking up another. Jazz stood behind him, to the right. He watched as the team entered the office, but didn't say a word. A solemn expression covered his face.

"Good afternoon. I will be with you in a moment," Prowl did not look up as he said this, attention focused on the paperwork in front of him. Annoyed, the Wreckers had no choice but to wait while the SIC finished what he was doing. They were wasting time by standing around, but there was no help for it. Half a breem later, Prowl finished with the pad and put it away. Jazz still had not so much as twitched. Though they didn't show it, the Wreckers were beginning to feel uncomfortable. Though they did not get along Prowl, they did so with Jazz well enough for the most part. The mech's blank stare was not something they were used to.

"Now, I understand that you have requested the next decacycle off. You have certainly earned it, but before we get into the briefing, I must ask why Springer is not with you. Don't answer that," Prowl snapped when Roadbuster moved to speak, agitation showing through his professional facade. "I know why. Hot Rod broke the bond he had with Springer, and now you six are out for revenge. Understandable, if Hot Rod was a traitor, but what I cannot comprehend is the fact that you wish to punish him for being captured by Decepticons."

"He wasn't captured. If he was, he would have sent an SOS over the bond to Springer." Prowl's smile was unpleasant.

"Clearly, you do not know Hot Rod, or understand how he operates. Do not argue with me," the SIC's tone had taken on a lethal quality. Scoop closed his mouth. "Hot Rod would not call for Springer as he would not want his mate, and by extension, the rest of you, to be placed in danger trying to rescue him. As for your unfounded belief that he did this deliberately to hurt your leader, you must first understand that in order to protect Hot Rod, Springer mutes the bond. Hot Rod, despite the fact that he feels as though Springer does not trust him when he shuts him out like that, respects it, but he would never close his end of the bond because he knows how much it hurts. This is something Springer does not understand. You know as well as I do that Hot Rod loves Springer. So why then would he inflict a pain that he despises on his mate?"

"I can answer that." Jazz's voice was hoarse, like he did not want to say what he was going to. "Most don't know this, but shortly after the Combaticons were brought back online I was sent on what was supposed to be a simple scouting mission. The intel we had received was false and I was captured. Before the Combaticons, captured Autobots sat in the brig until Prime and Megatron organized an exchange. Vortex, however, is an accomplished interrogator, as well as a sadist. In order to "refresh his skills" I was given to his team so that he could practice. Vortex favors two types of techniques: psychological mind games, and stripping a mech down to his protoform. It is an extremely long, slow process, and mid way through I was ready to sever my bond with Prowl. I would have, had a rescue team not arrived when they did. And I can guarantee that I have a lot more experience resisting torture than Hot Rod does. Hot Rod believes he is going to die, and if he has been given to Vortex he has good reason to. He is only trying to do what Springer does, and that is spare him the pain of his death." Scoop looked sick at the end of the tale. He had been sure that something along those lines had happened to Hot Rod, but he had hoped he was wrong. Jazz fell silent again. Prowl sent a wave of comfort to his mate and thanked him for his assistance. The black and white mech smiled faintly, before looking to see if the story had any effect on the Wreckers. They had all humbled their attitudes but the Special Ops bot could see that they weren't all convinced.

"You may leave the base at your leisure, but I require you mission reports from the last stellar cycle, and Ratchet will need your medical reports as well. Dismissed."

The Wreckers showed no surprise at the quick change in topic, or at the dismissal. They left without another word.

"You didn't go as hard on them as you did the others," Jazz said softly.

"No. It is likely that the Wreckers, with their determination to find Hot Rod will be the ones to do so. I think the state that they find him in, as I have no doubt it will not be pleasant, will be more than enough punishment. We can only pray that they find him in time to apologize." Prowl seemed weary now that there was no one around. Jazz wrapped his arms around his mate, both giving and taking comfort.

'Primus, watch over Hot Rod.'

"I don't buy it."

"Oh, come on you guys! Prowl placed the entire base under arrest because they didn't "buy it" either. Even Prime, if what Bluestreak said is true."

"I just can't believe that Hot Rod would be so stupid as to not call for help if he was captured!" Whirl was firm in his opinion.

"Hot Rod loves Springer."

"Sorry Scoop, but I agree with Whirl. No sane mech would willingly remain a captive of the Decepticons." Roadbuster knew how much Scoop liked their leader's mate, but he had to see reason.

"I would." Scoop's voice was almost to quiet to hear.

"...what?" The others were stunned.

"But then I suppose you do crazy things for love." He shot a sad look at his friends, before breaking off and heading back to Xantium. It wasn't good idea to leave Springer alone right now.

"Springer sat in his quarters, still stunned by what he had heard. Xantium had used her long range scanners to hear what was going on in the briefing. Roadbuster's insistence that he not come had picked at his curiosity, and he had asked the ship to listen in, and relay what she heard to him. What had been said had shocked him. He had been hurting Hot Rod? Hot Rod hadn't abandoned him? He didn't know what to believe, but there was one sure fire way to find out. He left his corridors, and exited the ship, just as Scoop approached. His team looked up at him in surprise.

"I don't know what's going on, but if there is even a chance that Hot Rod is in Decepticon hands, I am going to save him."

"We're coming too." Roadbuster said immediately. One by one, they all gave their affirmatives. No way was Springer going into Decepticon territory by himself, especially in his condition.

"Fine. Let's go."

Vortex was in a foul mood. As he stormed down the corridor to his team's quarters, Decepticons in his path quickly got out of the way. All were smart enough to not trifle with the helo when he was in such as mood. Angrily, he stomped into their room before the doors were fully open.

'How is it possible? Why has he not broken yet? Primus damned brat!' Consumed by his rage, he did not notice Onslaught sitting in the front room, a datapad in his hand.

"Is something the matter, Vortex?" His older brother asked. Happy that he had been given an opportunity to vent, Vortex began his tirade.

"It's that cursed Autobot! No matter what I do, he refuses to break! I have sent his broken chassis to the Constructicons more times than I can count, but he still refuses to even bend to my will!" Onslaught looked up at that.

"He is able to resist torture?"

"No! He has very little tolerance for pain, and can only withstand a few moments of it before he screams." A dreamy look came over the interrogator's face. "He screams so beautifully, some of the best I have ever heard."An ugly look replaced the smile, "But by now he should be a broken, mindless toy, ready to do whatever I tell him to, but still he fights me! I don't understand! No one has ever lasted this long before! It was amusing at first but it's not anymore! Even the broken bond did nothing to crush his spirit."

"And therein lies the problem. You see Vortex, a broken bond his supposed to be the most painful thing a transformer can endure. Not only did the little Autobot break it himself, he did it to protect his mate. So, theoretically he has already undergone a self inflicted torture worse than anything you can do, but you cannot break him because he clings to the fact that no matter what you do to him, his mate is safe."

"Then how the Pit am I supposed to do anything with him!? I might as well kill the whelp right now!"

"Don't be so hasty brother, I'm sure you can think of a way around this problem." Onslaught's smug attitude indicated that he already had. "And while you are working on a strategy, you might consider this little known fact about breaking bonds: it is physically more painful for the one who did not break the, the psychological effects on the one who did are just as dangerous. To break a bond you must force everything related to your bonded into a quarantined section of you processor, and then purge it. It is not possible to purge it entirely from your spark however, and slivers are left behind, forming a ghost bond in the breaker. This bond relays emotions and sensations back and forth from the bonded, but it is registered as phantom pain." With that, Onslaught turned back to his reading.

Vortex continued on to his quarters, reviewing Onslaught's words. He recalled certain times with his plaything when the Autobot would react so a sensation, but Vortex had not done anything to him. He had passed it off as spasms from receding pain, but if what Onslaught said was true...Vortex grinned. Oh yes. He could use this.


	5. Chapter 5

"What's up with Springer?" Whirl asked Topspin quietly. "Not even a joor ago he was nearly catatonic, and wanted nothing to do with Hot Rod. Hell, he through a chair at Broadside when he simply mentioned Hot Rod's name, and new he's leading a crusade against the Decepticons, who likely don't even have him captive. This isn't like him."

"I don't understand it either. By all means, he shouldn't be this coherent. I've read reports on what happens to couples who break bonds, and the mechs and femmes in Springer's position often take vorns to recover. That Springer seems to have done so in less than seven orns, well, it concerns me. Medically speaking, it shouldn't be possible. And Pit take it if I can figure out a reason why. I'm going to call Ratchet and see if he can't make sense of it."

"Good idea."

~*~*~*~

Springer could hear his mechs talking about his "miraculous recovery". He knew he wasn't recovered. Not even close. In fact, he still wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and disappear. The thought of Hot Rod and the pain he had inflicted on him made him want to abandon this foolish search, the same way that he had been abandoned. He could still feel the emptiness where his young mate used to be, could still remember the fire that tore through him without warning. But something in his spark urged him onwards. He didn't know what it was, but it almost felt like... well that was impossible, but whatever it was kept pulling and tugging, and leading him towards the Decepticons. He didn't want to follow it, but he couldn't break away from the feeling that something horrible was going to happen if he didn't. And Hot Rod was at the center of this feeling. No matter how much he disliked his ex-mate right now, he couldn't let him go, not when his spark was telling him the consequences of doing so could be dire.

~*~*~*~

Hot Rod lay on his side in his cell. He didn't know what time it was, or how long he had been held captive by the Decepticons. He didn't know how much longer he could hold out until he broke. Vortex's foul temper only increased his brutality, and every session brought more anguish upon his already battered frame. He knew the Autobots weren't coming. There would have been some indication, even if it was only his guards taunting him how he would be dead before help arrived. The only thing the two watching him had said was that Vortex liked to take his time, and he had all the time in the world. Springer wasn't coming either; the broken bond would have hurt him badly, and his beloved never forgave those who hurt him or his loved ones. None of that mattered though. He knew the moment that Starscream had struck him down that he didn't have a fighting chance to get out of this hellhole. The seekers had made that quite clear on the flight back to the underwater base. Even if the Autobots did come after him, they had no way to get into the base, let alone down to the brig and out again. Megatron had made sure of that after Prowl had managed to rescue Jazz. And Vortex, Skywarp had cheerfully informed him that Vortex's victims never survived past a decacycle, and most broke long before then. The only reason he clung to sanity – and life – now was the thought that Springer was alive. He didn't know why he clung to this – he would never see his mate again – but the thought of his mate, as well as his friends at the Ark, gave him strength. Hot Rod had never been a coward, and refused to give up. They would have to crush the last pulse from his spark before he would give them the satisfaction of his death.

The energy bars holding him prisoner dispersed, but Hot Rod did not look to see who it was. It was always Vortex. He came at irregular times to keep him guessing, but it was always him.

"Why am I here Vortex? We just fixed him half an orn ago. You can't have broken him that quickly," huh. So Hook was here too. Oh well. He would fix the minor damage on his frame, and Vortex would begin again. It was the same old, albeit extremely painful routine.

'Is this to be the rest of my life?" He thought bleakly. 'Will it never end?' Despair settled even more firmly in his processor. Only his will kept him from succumbing.

"Oh, it's nothing like that, Hook. You see, my team just got word that this little mech's bonded was killed in battle five orns ago. I've noticed during my time with him that he is reacting to stimuli that I have not provided. I think it may be his broken bond searching for his mate, and reacting negatively when he cannot find him. I am concerned that it may cause him to expire. I would like you to do a neurological examination and determine if that is what's causing these spasms."

Vortex casually observed his toy, but the little Autobot didn't react. Hmm, time to take it up a notch then.

"You know those little pains you've been trying so hard to hide? The ones, I'm sure, that you thought was feedback from your bonded? Kiddo, your bond is broken, so no matter how much comfort you take from feeling his "emotions" or whatever you thought they were, well, I'm afraid to tell you that their not what you think."

"Whatever game you are trying to play, Decepticon, won't work on me. I have no idea what you are talking about." In truth, Hot Rod was a little worried. He could feel pain, rage and despair that was not his own. He knew the bond was broken, but there was a part of him that was desperate to believe that Springer was not gone. The phantom pains, the anger, it was all because of Springer. At least he thought that was the case. But what if what Vortex said was true? What if the phantom sensations were only a part of his imagination? Vortex's face was the picture of remorse. Hot Rod didn't buy it for an astroklik.

"You see, Hot Rod, your spark is reaching out for its other half. Now, in most cases, you would be able feel ghost of you mate lingering throughout your systems, because your spark is trying to reconnect. Now, in your case, Springer was killed because he was distracted by the broken bond, and was unfortunately sent into battle." Shivers of pleasure raced up the helicopter's back struts as he watched a horrified comprehension creep into the Autscum's optics. "Yes, that's right, you killed him through your effort to save him. So when your spark tries to find him all you get are painful echoes of a mech who no longer functions. Now, behave while Hook examines you. E must make sure you are in perfect condition for what's to come. Oh, and try not to dwell on your dead lover. It won't bring him back. Ta." With that, Vortex left the cell.

Hot Rod sat unmoving as Hook checked his systems. Springer was dead. Springer. Is. Dead. Those words swirled through his processor over and over. He couldn't make any sense out of them. Springer wasn't supposed to die! He was supposed to be too hurt to fight! He was supposed to live!

"Hook to Vortex."

"Go ahead."

"I don't know what the slag you did, but his firewalls have dropped down next to nothing and his spark energy is moving in a concentrated search pattern. He's looking for his mate subconsciously, and if he manages to connect to Springer, even for a moment, we'll have the Wreckers here in less time than it takes to cycle air. I hope you know what you're doing." Manic giggles greeted the medic.

"Don't worry. The Wreckers last known location was so far from Earth that even if the slagger feels the search they'll arrive too late. In fact, that search pattern is exactly what I needed out of our guest. That will be all, Hook." The Constructicon shrugged. It wasn't his problem.

~*~*~*~

Springer froze. His spark jerked. That was Hot Rod. Hot Rod was searching for him! Fury welled up deep in his spark. How dare he!? First he breaks up with him, and now he's searching, calling out for him!? When he found Hot Rod he was going to run him through the ringer for playing him like this. He had to find him first though. Roadbuster, who was standing next to him, noticed the change in his friend immediately.

"Springer? Are you ok?" Springer said nothing. He transformed jerkily, motioning for the others to stay where they were before stalking off. Turning to the medic, Roadbuster asked, "Topspin, have you heard back from Ratchet yet?"

"Not yet. I keep trying his comm. line but he's off duty. Wait, incoming transmission."

"Whaddya want?" the gruff voice of the Autobot CMO came over the line.

"Hey doc bot, got a question for ya. Springer went from being catatonic, and raging about Hot Rod's betrayal, to being on some sort of crusade against the Decepticons in less than seven orns. He shouldn't even be coherent so soon after the break. Do you have any idea what's going on?" Topspin neglected to flirt with Ratchet as he would on any other occasion. This situation was too serious. Back at the Ark, Ratchet flinched. So Prowl had been right. Hot Rod wasn't a traitor. He had heard of cases like this, but they were so outrageous that the medical community passed them off as myths.

"I have heard of a two cases where what you're describing has happened. In those situations, the mechs that broke the bond did so under extreme duress, usually to protect their bondeds. The Bondeds kept feeling what they described as a "tug" in their sparks, like someone was pulling them by a chain to where their mates were being held. They overcame the physical disabilities of a broken bond, despite feeling as though they wanted nothing more than to kill the ones who had hurt them. I think that if Springer is acting like this then his spark recognizes that he wasn't betrayed, even if his processor doesn't. Has Springer said anything about feeling a tug, or pull, or anything of the sort?"

"No, but we'll ask him and get back to you. He just left in a rage of some kind."

"Alright, I'll assemble a rescue team. Send me the coordinates when you find Hot Rod. We'll meet you there."

"Yes sir. Topspin out." The Wreckers looked at each other in silence.

"You were right Scoop. I'll go get Springer. We need to get moving."

~*~*~*~

"Interesting proposition, Onslaught. Are you sure it will work?" Megatron was intrigued. If they could turn the Autobot's allegiance to the Decepticons they would have a powerful weapon against the Wreckers.

"Yes sir. He is currently receptive to a bond, as his spark is trying to find – or replace – the one he lost. Vortex already has him off balance, his firewalls are down and his spark energy is still running search patterns. If he were to bond with another mech right now, they could overwrite his current memories and replace them with whatever they want."

"Hence making an Autobot into a Decepticon, and using the lead Wrecker's mate against him. And who is going to bond to the Autobrat?" Onslaught smirked.

"Whoever you want sir. But we were thinking of Motormaster."


	6. Chapter 6

As soon as he was far enough away from his friends, Springer collapsed into the sand. His body shook with suppressed rage and grief. The moment he had felt he bond break had been the worst in his life. Even now, the emptiness reverberated in his spark. He couldn't believe that Hot Rod, his beloved mate, had hurt him so badly. He wanted nothing more than to hurt the betrayer the same way that he had been hurt. He wanted to lash out, destroy something, anything, bet there was nothing but desert for miles around. At the same time though, his spark, for he certainly did not want to, wanted to save Hot Rod from his fate. What fate, he did not know, but deep down, in the depths of his spark and mind that he refused to acknowledge, he knew it was bad. Hot Rod's pleas were proof of that.

The thought of his ex-lover's begging brought his rage to a boil again. How dare he? How dare he!? Yet, at the same time, his spark rejoiced. He was not forgotten. The conflicting emotions were pulling him in opposite directions. He wanted to return to Xantium, leave this wretched solar system and get on with his life. His spark wanted him to move forward, find Hot Rod and learn the truth. With no outlet the conflict inside his mind continued to grow. Back and forth, back and forth it went, until Springer could no longer take the pressure. Tossing his head back, the Wrecker screamed. It was a cry of abandonment, of despair and a deep, aching loneliness. He continued to cry out to the Heavens, his voice echoing across the desolate plane of nothingness. He didn't care if the others heard him, and although some part of his mind was concerned about looking weak in front of his team, he couldn't bring himself to stop. He didn't notice when energon began to leak from his optics, falling to the sand softly before disappearing into the ground. Why? Why had this happened?

~*~*~*~

The Wreckers stopped in their tracks as they heard the sorrowful cry bounce across the desert. They stayed where they were until it faded away, and no more cries came. Their leader was grieving, and he needed this moment to himself. After a moment, Roadbuster signalled them to move forward. Time was running out, and although they were all still furious with Hot Rod, they did not want to leave him in the hands of the Decepticons. There were many ways to protect your mate while under torture, and Hot Rod had chosen the worst possible one. They would not forgive so easily, even if the young mech had done what he thought was best for Springer. This stunt proved that he was too immature to be bonded to their leader. They would have to find the racer before they could get the truth from him, and every moment wasted could mean death for Hot Rod. None of them wanted that.

~*~*~*~

"Good news kiddo!" Vortex's cheerfulness was beginning to creep him out. Ever since he told that lie about Springer's death – Hot Rod refused to believe it was true, he had felt Springer damnit! – Vortex had been exceedlingly kind and happy around Hot Rod. He's had his damaged armor repaired fully, giving him full rations, which Hot Rod refused to drink, and had him moved from the cell in the brig to a crewman's quarters. He still had guards at the doors, and could not leave his prison, but the conditions were much improved. Hot Rod was still waiting for the catch.

"My bondmate has found a way onto your ship and is currently tearing your comrades into tiny pieces?" the Autobot felt vindicated to see Vortex's mask slip slightly. He wanted to deck the young mech, but current plans wouldn't allow for that.

"Springer's dead kid. Get over it."

"No. No he's not. My spark can feel him even now. And I broke the bond when they were moving from Quatam to Bresek and that's three decacyles of travel, so there is no way that he was killed in a battle. Even if they we're delayed and still on Quatam, Springer's too strong to let something like me breaking the bond distract him. Not when he has a team to look after. So he's not dead, and you're a crappy actor." A lot of Hot Rod's defiance had come back after the move. Before he had been listless, barely holding on. By then they had upped the ante, trying to make him believe that Springer was dead. And for a time he did. But then he had felt their sparks connect over the broken fragments of the bond, and he no longer believed that was the case.

He had felt how angry his mate was, and knew that no help was coming for him, but that was ok. He didn't want Springer to come. That was the reason he wanted it to hurt; he knew his mate would see it as a betrayal, knew that he wouldn't want anything to do with him, and by the time he calmed down enough to think it would be too late. Hot Rod was not stupid. He knew how valuable the Wreckers were, and knew that they were the Autobots' biggest trump card. He cared about his cause, and his mate too much to wish for rescue. Of course, that did not mean that he wanted to die in the Nemesis, alone, but if it meant that Bluestreak, Springer, Jazz, Prowl and all his other friends could live to fight another day then it was worth it.

The need of the many outweigh the need of the one. He couldn't remember which instructor had said it, but it was something that had stuck firmly in his processor. At the time he disagreed with it; he could never fathom leaving a friend behind, but now he agreed. He was the one. His need was less than that of his friends.

The young Autobot observed Vortex as he tried to keep himself under control. Hot Rod wasn't sure why they weren't killing him, but he had no desire to be the grateful prisoner, and become a mindless little drone for the Decepticons' pleasure. No, he would fight.

"You have a lot of faith in your mate." It was a statement, one that his the 'copter's worry well. They had lost track of the Wreckers after they had left Quatam, and it had been assumed that they ha continued on course to Bresek. None of their equipment had picked up Xantium landing on Earth, but if this brat had felt Springer... well it would still be too late. No matter. "Hook will be by momentarily to run a diagnostic scan on you."

"Really. And here I thought that he was going to run one on the wall." Vortex moved so fast that Hot Rod never saw the blow coming.

"What your mouth, Autobrat. We could decide to take away all of these privileges and kill you instead. Hot Rod sat up, using the wall to get to his pedes. Spitting out energon, he sneered,

"So what's stopping you?" Only Hook's arrival saved him. Hot Rod tolerated the probing scans. It wasn't like he could do anything to stop it. He watched the medic look over the readings in surprise.

"He's starting to rebuild his firewalls, and his spark energy has already smoothed itself out. He's not looking for his other half anymore." Vortex looked furious.

"Why?"

"I'm a medic, not a mind reader. Ask Soundwave. But my best guess would be is he found Springer's spark energy." Hot Rod grinned, energon dripping from his split lip.

"See, I told you he wasn't dead." Vortex, instead of reacting to the Autobot's cheek, simply grinned.

"I never told you the good news, did I kiddo? We found you a new bondmate. If you hadn't been so stubborn and insisting on searching for your ex-lover, the change would have been painless. Your spark energy would have simply latched onto the first available spark. You wouldn't have even noticed the difference. Ah well. Now you'll have to bond by force, and we'll have to use a series of drugs to make you forget about Springer. I trust Mixmaster can take care of this?" he asked, turning to look at Hook.

"It should not be a problem." Turning back to the stunned Autobot, he continued,

"Motormaster will be pleased however. I hear he likes it when things get rough."

"Never."

"What was that?"

"I will never bond to him. I knew you Decepticons were scum, but it never occurred to me that you were barbarians too."

"As the humans say, "sticks and stones" kiddo. And you have no choice."

"Yes I do. You even think about going through with this and you'll see exactly what I can do. How will Megatron feel about losing his best gesalt?"

"Believe whatever you want brat, but this will happen. Now, we have arrangements to make for the ceremony, so get some rest. You'll need it."

Hot Rod watched as the two mechs left his quarters. As soon as the door closed, he dropped his bravado. Sliding down the wall he was leaning against, he wrapped his arms around his knees and buried his face. Terror raced through his system. They were right. Ultimately, there was nothing he could do to stop them. Motormaster was bigger and stronger, and could easily hold him down. And even if he did manage to get away, the other Decepticons would stop him from getting very far. But he'd meant what he'd said.

Vortex had taken him apart, and the Constructicons had put him back together again, but my some Primus given miracle, they'd all missed this. Reaching around to the back of his neck, Hot Rod located a tiny control panel. Tapping in the correct sequence, he heard a musical chime acknowledge the code, and a tiny panel in the center of his right hand slid open. Hitting another command sequence, the concealed chamber popped open, revealing a tiny vial of cyanide. He remembered when Jazz had given it to him.

"Hot Rod, Bluestreak, come with me." Neither had ever seen the saboteur look as solemn as he did then. He led them to his and Prowl's quarters, and once they were seated said, "Listen to me very carefully you two. There may come a time when you are captured by Decepticons. Understand that we will always try to come for you, and what I am going to give you is a last ditch attempt only. These," he pulled out two small vials, "contain liquid cyanide. Not as deadly for us as the humans, but if you inject these into an energon tube, they will kill you. They are mixed with a metal alloy, so your body will not fight it, and it will cause you no pain. Some of the Decepticons are depraved, and will do anything to get information from you. DO NOT use these unless you have ABSOLUTELY NO OTHER OPTION. Do I make myself clear?" Hot Rod and Bluestreak nodded. "It takes three breems for it to fully circulate your system, and another breem past that to kill you. This gives the rescue team a chance to resuscitate you. Keep them in secret subspace compartments. Death is ALWAYS the last option, but every special ops mech knows that it is an option. I pray that you never have to find out why."

Jazz's prayer didn't come true, and now Hot Rod knew exactly why he had given them the poison. He was NOT going to bond to Motormaster. He would rather die. And, if possible, he would take that disgusting mech with him.

'I can take it now, and be dead before they come back for me, but that runs the risk of someone coming in too soon and finding me. I can't take it right before the ceremony or they will find me. But, if I time it right I should be able to make this work so that the uplink occurs at the three breem mark. That way he'll get the full dose too, but I'll be dead before they can make us merge. With luck, he'll die with me, taking out the Stunticon gesalt. I won't be able to inject it, so swallowing it will have to do.' Terror still ran rampant through Hot Rod. He was going to kill himself. That was something he had never thought he would consider. He didn't want to die, and not like this. But he wanted to be bonded to a Decepticon even less.

"I'm sorry Jazz," he whispered softly, "but I can't see any other way." Decision made, Hot Rod had only one thing left to do. He didn't know if anyone would ever hear it, but he had to say goodbye. He opened up a memory file, and secured it under the special ops frequency Jazz had taught him. He wasn't an SO, so the message wouldn't go through as he didn't have the right upgrades to use the secret comm. link, but if they got his body back, Jazz would be able to open the message.

"Hey guys, it's me! I'm sorry I couldn't come back to you. I wanted to, but there is no way out. Jazz, I promised I wouldn't use it, but they are going to force me to bond to Motormaster. I can't do it. So I'm sorry, but I had no other option. Thank you,Jazz and Prowl, for always watching out for me, and teaching me how to be a good Autobot. Bluestreak, Kup, Arcee, you guys were the best friends I have ever had. I love you all and I'll miss you.

Springer, I am so sorry that I broke our bond. I love you more than life itself. That's why I did it. They were going to use me to hurt you. I couldn't let them, and I couldn't let you come after me. It's what they wanted. I know you hate me, and you have every right, especially since I deliberately hurt you I to keep you away, but I want you to know that I'm sorry and I love you. If you find someone else to love in the future please don't let memories of me stop you from loving again. Goodbye."

He sent the message, and got the standard "message cannot go through" reply. By sending it though, it was stored on his hard drive. That was what he wanted. Standing shakily, he moved away from the wall, and climbed up onto his berth. Exhaling shakily, he tried not to think of his upcoming death, and instead replayed files of him, and Springer, his friends and happier times. Now all there was left to do was wait.

~*~*~*~

Note: "the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one" (or something similar - I don'tremember the exact quote) was said by Spock in "Wrath of the Khan"

For those who don't know they saying is "sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me." Again, no idea where this is from.


	7. Chapter 7

"This is getting us nowhere," Sandstorm complained. The Wreckers had followed Springer to the ocean, but could go no further than the shoreline. They knew the Decepticon base was somewhere below the waves, but none of them had aquatic altmodes, and despite their strength, even they would not last long against the crushing depths of the water.

"Be quiet!" Broadside hissed, optics on his leader. The mech was pacing up and down the beach, frustration clear in his movements. After they had found him on his knees in the sand, Springer had adopted a completely different persona. Gone was the depressed mech, gone was the playful attitude of cycles passed. This new Springer seemed to be as a cold as any Decepticon. They had said nothing of the piercing scream that had echoed through the desert. Springer had calmly looked up at them and said, "He has a lot to answer for," before transforming and moving towards the pull. Springer wasn't the only one frustrated. They were so close to finally getting some answers, but they had no way to get down to where Springer said Hot Rod was.

Roadbuster approached his friend, moving to intercept his path. Springer stopped in front of him, but seemed to look through him, searching the waters for a way to get to the ship.

"Relax Springer. I know that we are close, but if you continue on like this you will merely waste your energy. The Decepticons run patrols like us. We just need to wait for a party to either leave or return. At this point, that' all we can do." Springer nodded to show that he had heard his SIC's words, and though he stopped pacing, he tension did not lessen.

\-------------

It was almost time. Excitement ran through the Decepticon base as the cycle of the bonding approached. Duty shifts had been lightened, and the rations had been increased. Many mechs used this gift to brew their own high grade. None of the Cons really cared about the bonding itself; it was just a chance to party. The humiliation of the Autobot was just a bonus. Motormaster and his crew were particularly smug about that. Hot Rod was a fine piece of and if it worked they would have a not-so-loyal slave. Motormaster was planning on using the bond to make Hot Rod do whatever he wanted. The Autobot was less than pleased, but he would be dead within the next two cycles (and would hopefully take the brute with him) so it didn't really matter. He was mostly just disgusted that the Cons could twist something as meaningful as bonding.

As the ceremony drew closer Hot Rod's spark began sending panicked flares across the broken bond, trying to find a mate that wasn't there. The young mech tried to clamp that, but his spark knew something was wrong and was calling desperately for its other half. Eventually though, he was able to get it under control, and his spark beat a rhythm of reassignment.  
One of the Stunticons had been assigned to guard him at all times. They knew he would try something, but they didn't know what. Didn't matter. Breakdown was a spastic and he spent most of his time agonizing over the cameras that were "watching him" in Hot Rod's room. It would be easy to get away with. That thought gave him some satisfaction. He ignored it when the other Stunticons entered the room with polish and cloths. Motormaster didn't like dirty things after all. Hot Rod held still, allowing them to poke, prod and polish his chassis. It was a mockery of the pre-bonding ceremony, one he was sure the Decepticons were only doing to remind him of his helplessness. It didn't matter though. His salvation was hidden in his hand.

"Excited Autobot?" Drag Strip tried t get a reaction from the fiery Autobot but was met with a cold, blank stare.

"Should I be?" The voice that answered was mildly unnerving. The Stunticons had fought the brash Autobot once before in battle, but the mech that stood before them now was more like the cold tactician Prowl than the passionate mech they remembered. Drag Strip brushed it off.

"Broken all ready? Shame. Motormaster won't like that."

"I hardly care what Motormaster likes." 'And he really won't like what I have in store for him.' Vindication rushed through Hot Rod at that thought, but he took care to keep his face stoic. 'They'll regret targeting me.'

"Drag Strip, stop taunting him and get back to work. Motormaster will kill us if he's late. And that's saying nothing of Megatron." He let them do as they wanted, replaying images of happier times with Springer and Bluestreak and his family. He felt almost at piece by the time they were finished. This was why he was fighting. To protect those he loved. Maybe others would condemn him for his actions against his bondmate, but he would die for those he cared about before he would lead them to their deaths. Resolve strengthened further, he settled down to wait. It was almost over. The Stunticons left, one by one until only Breakdown remained. In just a little over a cycle he would do it. Hot Rod let himself fall back into his memories.

\----------

The Wreckers cried out as one, dropping to the ground as a sonic attack hit them all. Whirl and Sandstorm made it to their pedes, stumbling towards the sapphire mech standing further down the shoreline.

"Wreckers: desist."

"Frag you!" Springer climbed to his feet, trying to pull out his gun. He had taken the brunt of the attack, and was furious. Not only with the Con, but that was a given, but with himself and his team. They had let themselves become so distracted that they had allowed the telepath to sneak up on them. Admittedly, the ghost pulses in his spark were distracting, but that was no excuse. They had put themselves in a very dangerous situation. He watched as the rest of his mechs stood; ready to fight despite the crippling pain.

"We mean you no harm." The scratchy voice was despondent, and far quieter than they had ever heard. "But if we had approached you without incapacitating you first you would have fired and alerted the base to your presence." The Air Commander, who was far smaller than any of them would have guessed, stepped out from behind the larger Soundwave. "If we let you go will you hear us out?"

"Why should be, filthy Con?" Sandstorm spat.

"You want into the base right? We can get you in." Shock. That was really the only word for it. They knew the SIC was treacherous, but this went beyond mere treason. And Soundwave was the most loyal Decepticon there was. Why would he help? Cautiously, Springer nodded.

"We're listening." Immediately the crushing pain disappeared. The Wreckers all reached for their weapons, but Starscream and Soundwave did not. The Seeker actually held up his hands, null rays pointed to the sky, showing that they had no intention of attacking. They really were just there to talk.

"Look, I know you think that the cons are sparkless bastards with no morals, and some of us are. We understand, better than the Autobots, that this is a war and you do anything to win. But there are some lines that should never be crossed and Megatron has gone way too far this time."

"Agreed." Soundwave's voice was quiet, like it hurt him to admit his leader was wrong.

"Look, everyone knows by now what your mate did. We know it was a deliberate attempt to hurt you," Roadbuster hissed at that, "but it's the kid's intent to keep you away. Had you come for him you would be in his place, probably watching Megatron gut him. Don't look at me like that; it's true. You have no idea how much effort our "Mighty Leader" put into making sure the base could contain you. Were that the case, we would have left your brat to his fate, but plans changed. In five breems they are going to force Hot Rod to bond to Motormaster." Looks of horror and disgust flashed across every face there.

"You're lying." Springer's voice was murderous. "This is nothing more than a trap."

"Assumption: incorrect. Hot Rod: a valuable addition to the cause. Motormaster: a sick fragger who has long lusted after your mate."

"Son of a..." Topspin was enraged. He himself had almost been forced into a bond once, it was only chance that he had gotten away. No matter how angry he was at the kid, he would never leave a mech in the hands of someone as twisted as the gesalt leader. "How do we get in?" If the others were startled by the ferocity of his response they did not show it.

"When we enter the base we will take you with us. Soundwave can convince anyone we meet that you are simply not there. We will leave you at the communications center, as we have to be there for the...event. But so long as no one touches you, you should be able to stay unnoticed until you get to the rec hall. After that, you are on your own." Springer took a moment to think it over. It could still be a trap. But if that was so, why not take them all out when Soundwave had the chance? They wouldn't fall for that trick again. And Starscream really wasn't a good actor - they had heard stories from the others on Earth - but he looked faintly ill and extremely upset. And they couldn't leave Hot Rod there to suffer such a fate. Springer wasn't one to abandon mechs, even if they deserved it. And nobody deserved to be forced into a bond. Besides, even if he said no, Topspin would go anyway. He knew the story.

"Alright. Thank you."

Starscream was relieved. He didn't show it, just nodded before turning to the ocean and requesting the tower be raised. Soundwave, as impassive as ever, sent a comforting pulse over their bond. Only Skyfire knew, and he kept his peace, but they had bonded vorns before the war. They cherished the connection, and like the Autobots, saw it as something sacred and treasured. The fact that Megatron was abusing it in such a way disgusted them both.

Within moments all eight mechs were aboard the docking tower. Soundwave scanned for the presence of other minds, but found only his cassettes waiting for them. Good. The telepath searched for Hot Rod's location. If they could get to him before he was moved it would be so much easier. His visor flashed in surprise. How had he not caught this before?

"Situation: Hot Rod has ingested a vial of cyanide. Time until death: approximately three breems."

\----------


	8. Chapter 8

Note: the uplink is meant to sync the mechs's systems for the upcoming bond. It gives no pleasure or pain and is not invasive (as in one mech cannot control the other's systems and cannot read his thoughts). The section that describes this is not meant to be rape, but if you are squeamish about it skip down to the paragraph after the dotted lines.

~*~

He didn't feel good. He could feel his systems overheat as oxygen was blocked from his body. Without oxygen he couldn't run his cooling fans. When his body finally realized that the vital cooling system had shut down it would force other systems, such as he coolant lines, to compensate for the loss, creating more heat. It wouldn't take long to fry his systems beyond repair. Just over half an earth hour. He barely noticed as he was manhandled from the room and towards wherever the ceremony was taking place. He couldn't focus as Motormaster smirked at him, a hand harshly gripping the smaller mech's spoiler. He ignored the pompous words spilling from Megatron's vocalizer, as he spoke of love and commitment with mockery. It seemed to go on forever, but in reality it had only been a few moments. His spark seemed to pulse in time to the clicks, jagged raw edges sending pain through him. Was it the bond? The poison? Did it matter? No, it didn't.

He held still as a Decepticon - he didn't know which one - pawed at him, searching his chassis for his uplink cable and port. He didn't struggle when they found it; this was what he wanted. At least, he thought it was. It was getting hard to remember. He was so hot. He forced himself to concentrate. This was important although the reason why escaped him. It was...because of the poison. The poison would get rid of Motormaster. Motormaster made a lewd comment as the connection was made but Hot Rod just smiled.

Motormaster knew something was wrong. The Autobot was far too compliant. A moment later he found out why. Agony ripped through him as the poison - and the pain it had caused Hot Rod - swept through him. He shoved the Autobot away from him as he tried to calm his systems enough to slow the poison. How the Pit was that brat still alive? He sank weakly to the floor as his brothers surrounded him. Chaos erupted. Although none of the cons knew how the little brat had accomplished it most could tell that he had succeeded in poisoning the gestalt leader. Hook was immediately by the fallen con's side, trying to administer the antidote.

All weapons were immediately trained on the limp form on the floor. Megatron towered over the mech, furious that his plans had been thwarted again. Hot Rod's optics flickered and a horrible grinding sound came from his body as another system shut down.

"You have defied me for the last time, little mech." He raised his fusion cannon, ready to rid himself of the annoyance once and for all. Instead of firing however, he merely watched the weakly writhing body struggle. "Your death will not be an easy one, youngling. You have brought it on yourself." Clearly he was just going to watch the little mech die. The rest of the cons watched in morbid fascination. So focused were they that none of them noticed the rec hall doors open, admitting seven pissed off mechs.

\----------

The Wreckers were horrified. Hot Rod was trying to kill himself. Where the hell had he gotten cyanide from anyway?! It didn't matter. They had to get to him now. While Topspin transmitted the information to Ratchet, Soundwave confirmed that Hot Rod had already been transferred to the rec hall, which was filled with Decepticons. Then he had transformed and allowed his mate to carry him to the ceremony. It wouldn't do to be late. As they left Soundwave sent a databurst with a map with the quickest route to the rec highlighted. They took off running.

It was immediately apparent that Hot Rod had done some damage when they arrived. Motormaster was on the ground, seizures wracking his body. Megatron was glaring down at what they assumed to be Hot Rod. They couldn't see him due to the many cons surrounding him. There was no time to plan; they had to act. They opened fire, with Springer targeting Megatron.

The Decepticons were taken off guard. There should have been no way for the Wreckers to get into the base, let alone find their way down to the rec hall. Soundwave should have caught them. But then again they had all been so caught up in watching the Autobot's anguished death that no one had really bothered to scan the base for breeches. They would have to deal with it later though. Right now there were Autobots to kill. Thundercracker and Skywarp moved to join the fray but a hand on their wings held them back. They turned to their trine leader in surprise. Starscream was normally the first mech to join in a fight. Skywarp opened his mouth to complain but the sadness and guilt in the younger seeker's optics stopped him. Disgruntled they settled back and watched the groundpounders get their afts handed to them.

Admittedly the Decepticons would be doing much better if they had had a chance to prepare for this fight. As it was, the Wreckers had the advantage both in surprise and murderous intent. Whirl and Sandstorm took to the air, preventing the coneheads from getting off the ground. Scoop, Twin Twist and Roadbuster spread out, fencing their confused enemies between them while Springer and Topspin made their way towards the injured Hot Rod. Cries of pain rang through the air, but the cons began to regroup and put up a good fight. Some, including Soundwave and the command trine escaped from the cramped room, intending to prevent the Wreckers from getting out of the base. Soundwave ordered his cassettes to hinder them as much as possible without being obvious. The only bonded Decepticon pair had done all that they could. Now it would be up to the Wreckers.

Springer's first shot connected with the Warlord's side, knocking the silver mech off balance and away from the prone mech. He fought his way through the crowd with a terrifying lethality. Most gave up and moved out of his way to avoid being cut down. Megatron regained his footing and moved to engage the apocalyptic Wrecker. Springer met him half way, driving his fist into the gunmech's face while his other hand fired his rifle point blank into his opponent's chassis. A shot like that would have killed any other mech. Megatron was injured, but the injury was more of an annoyance than anything. He charged his cannon and fired, but Springer ducked the shot. Lunging, he tackled the con around the waist and sent him crashing into the ground. Sitting astride the large mech he gave up on firing and simply slammed his fists into the body over and over. Megatron did not just lay there and take it. He attempted to flip the other off, and both mechs began a struggle for dominance.

While Springer was distracting Megaton Topspin made his way over to Hot Rod's side. Thankfully the younger bot and succumbed to unconsciousness, allowing him to examine the prone form uninterrupted. What he found was not good. Over seventy five percent of the kid's systems had shut down; only his spark, processor and fuel pump and a few backup systems remained online.

"What have you done to yourself kiddo?" Topspin muttered. He didn't have the antidote, but the cons did. He had seen Hook inject something into Motormaster before the big lug was removed from the hall.

"Hey Sandstorm! Are the Constructions still in the room?"

"Yep, why?"

"Get me their medic. I want the antidote to cyanide. Take one of his brothers hostage if you have to. We need it if we're going to get Hot Rod out of here alive."

"Copy that. Sandstorm out."

"Sorry kiddo, but this is really going to hurt." he quickly pulled off the armor covering Hot Rod's chassis, partially exposing his spark chamber. He located the main coolant line nestled to the right of it, before doing the same to his own chassis. Withdrawing a siphon he linked their systems together, drawing coolant from his own body and transferring it to Hot Rod. Hopefully the influx of fresh coolant would help cool the still functioning systems and prevent the kid from completely frying. If so it would help stabilize the kid's systems for a time. Only the antidote would actually stabilize him though, but even that wouldn't pull him out of critical. They needed to get somewhere where they could treat him properly. He continued the transfer hoping that Sandstorm could convince hook to give up the drug. Moments later Sandstorm showed up, dragging a very reluctant Scrapper with him. The Constructicon didn't struggle much though. The gun pressed to his temple was a rather good deterrent.

"The medic swears that this is the right one," Sandstorm said, tossing a vial to Topspin. "If it's not then he'll be down one brother." Nodding Topspin checked the antidote and found it to be the correct one. He quickly administered it, waiting tensely to see if it would have any effect. Hot Rod could be too far gone to save. Not that he wouldn't try. He scanned the racer again, and found that the temperature within his body was beginning to return to normal. As oxygen flooded his body it was able to convert that power that was normally used for the fans to a gaseous coolant instead. His cooling fans were still shot, but the additional coolant would be enough to hold him until they could get away. Besides the few systems that were still running didn't generate all that much heat. Topspin lifted the limp body into his arms and slowly made his way back through the chaos.

\----------

Megatron was amused. He had always thought that Springer would be more of a challenge. His rage over the damage that his little lover had taken was clouding his judgment. Megatron would just have to wait until he tired himself out. Then he could eliminate the fool. The triplechanger didn't seem to be tiring out though. Where his rage clouded his mind it made up for it by providing limitless energy. Springer would not stop until Megatron was dead. The continued to trade blows, neither giving an inch. The Decepticon no longer found it to be amusing. He needed something to throw the other off balance.

"Perhaps we went about this wrong. We had such a hard time trying to break your mate. Maybe we should make him watch as I rip you apart. When you're dead he'll be easy to claim. Maybe I'll take him as my own mate. He is a lovely little mech after all." It was the wrong thing to say. Instead of distracting Springer it only enraged him further, and he threw himself at Megatron again, this time going for his gun. He brought it to the silver head and fired, but a shot from behind threw his aim off slightly. Megatron was out cold, but not dead. Snarling, Springer lined up for another shot.

"Springer! We have to go! Hot Rod won't survive down here much longer!" he fired again, this time striking the grey chassis before turning and running for the door. More cons were coming. They had to get out while they still had a chance.

\----------

Springer wasn't entirely sure how they had escaped. It had been a mad dash through the halls of the Decepticon base. He was pretty sure that at some point scoop had set off a mound of explosives, blowing a hole in the side of the base and forcing the remaining Decepticons to call off their pursuit in an attempt to fix the damage. The base had been made "Springer proof" but it sure as hell wasn't "Wrecker proof." They had made it out though, and that was what mattered. They found Skyfire Ratchet and the Twins waiting for them. The big shuttle had flown at his top speeds to make it in under four breems. He was exhausted, but assured them he could get them home in the same time. Ratchet cursed when he saw the young Autobot's state and promptly took him from Springer. Summoning Swoop and First Aid from inside Skyfire the three immediately set to work. The Wreckers followed them into the shuttle. Moments later they were bound for home.


	9. Chapter 9

AN: This was supposed to be one chapter, but it got way too long so I cut it into two. Sorry if the end seems choppy

\---------

Ratchet was not happy. Hot Rod had been back on the base for joors now, and his condition was still deteriorating. The CMO had no idea why the antidote had suddenly ceased to work, but Hot Rod was worse off now than he had been after they had rescued him. His internal components were failing, and they couldn't replace them fast enough to contain the damage. They would get a new part installed, move onto the next one and then have to go back and replace the one they had just fixed. Hot Rod's body was refusing to accept the new components and no one could figure out why. It was frustrating all of them. Perceptor had taken a sample of Roddi's vital fluids back to his lab for analysis. Hopefully he would have an answer soon. Ratchet turned his attention to the failing fuel pump. This was the third one that had failed in as many hours. The doctor feared that they would eventually run out of parts if the prone mech's body kept rejecting them. They needed answers and they needed them now.

"Ratchet to Perceptor! Do you have the results yet?"

"I'm working on it Ratchet!" Perceptor snapped back, voice unusually terse. "Give me a few more breems!" No one needed to say that Hot Rod might not have a few more breems. Ratchet said nothing more, as at that moment warnings flared on his scanner, alerting him to the fact that Hot Rod's spark chamber was failing. The poison had yet to touch his spark, but if they did not act quickly there would be no hope for the young mech. Ratchet cursed and immediately set to work. He pinched off wires leading to the spark while ordering the others to prepare for surgery.

"Wheeljack, begin procedures for emergency removal! I want his spark out of there in the next ten kliks. Hoist, get him hooked up to life support. First Aid, flush his fuel lines again. I want as much poison out of his body as we can possibly get! Swoop, prepare the replacement chamber. We are going to have to do a spark transplant." Despite its name, they weren't actually transferring a new spark into the young Cybertronian. Instead, they were transferring the mech's spark into anew chamber, as his had been damaged. It was a risky procedure with a low survival rate. But right now they didn't have a choice.

Ratchet began as soon as Wheeljack had Hot Rod's spark out of his body. He spared a cursitory glance at the monitors to make sure that the life support systems were working; 'Aid was monitoring those and had everything under control. Good. That way Ratchet could focus on the spark itself.

The procedure was very difficult. He had to open the chamber manually, and then carefully disconnect the pulsing orb from the wire feeds that transferred energon to and from the spark located at the back of the chamber. Very gently he used a scalpel to cut through the mesh of small but strong wires. Once the connections were severed he picked up a scoop, which almost looked like the ones humans used to get ice cream out of the bucket, and carefully pulled the fading ball from the now dead chamber. Already spark flares were beginning to surge as the orb tried to keep itself alive. If it wasn't placed in the new chamber and returned to Hot Rod's body almost immediately the flares would kill him. The scariest part was that there was no guarantee that this chamber would not fail as well.

Luck seemed to be smiling down on the Ark's medical team though, as the surgery went off without a hitch. The relief they felt however, was cut short.

"Perceptor to Ratchet. I have determined the cause of Hot Rod's increasingly malignant affection. Do NOT replace any more systems or failed parts. Doing so will only hinder his recovery and will likely increase his decomposition."

The team listened in horror as they continued to try and stabilize Hot Rod. The medimechs looked at each other in despair. How were they to get around this?

"Perceptor, what exactly is wrong with Hot Rod?"

\----------

First Aid staggered into the Rec Room, making a bee line for the energon dispenser. He was dead on his pedes, so Ratchet had given him a short break to refuel and rest for a bit. The Protectobot didn't like it – Hot Rod was still dying and he should be in there helping dam nit! - but he couldn't deny that he would be no good if he could no longer function at his peak. Hence his break.

After getting his energon he turned to find a seat. Some of the Wreckers – Broadside, Topspin Roadbuster and Whirl – were sitting in the corner. They had an empty seat at their table. The young medic turned to look for another seat, assuming that they wouldn't want to be disturbed, but Topspin noticed him and beckoned the apprentice over. Shrugging inwardly, First Aid moved to join them.

"You doing ok kid? You look dead on your pedes." 'Aid simply nodded at Topspin.

"I guess." The littlest Protectobot tilted his head back and downed his energon in one gulp. It was only mid grade, but drinking it so fast gave him a faint buzz at the liquid hit his empty systems. Given his exhaustion and mild buzz it wasn't surprising that his thought to vocalizer buffer wasn't really working. He looked at the Wrecker medic and asked,

"Why aren't you in there working on Hot Rod too?" Immediately, he realized what he had asked and looked horrified. True, he was curious, but that gave him no right to ask such as question. It was rude. Thankfully, Topspin didn't look offended.

"Poisons aren't something we encounter on the battlefield very often, so I don't really know anything about the non-common ones. I would probably make him worse than he already is if I started mucking around in his systems.

"I doubt that's possible," the little medic muttered, not realizing he said the words out loud. The four mechs at the table picked up on it immediately. Concern spread through them. They had not heard any word on Hot Rod's condition. They had not thought it to be as bad as First Aid made it sound though. After all, Roddi had been given the antidote and was under Ratchet's care. But...what if that hadn't been enough?

"What do you mean, 'Aid? How bad is Hot Rod?" First Aid tried to cover his slip. His mild buzz had worn off by this point and he could now think clearly. He shouldn't tell the Wreckers. They weren't Hot Rod's family.

"Nothing. I'm just tired and irritated, that's all. Never mind me." He pushed back from the table and made to stand. "I-I-I've got to go." Before he could move away Roadbuster snagged his wrist.

"First Aid, please. You know whatever affects Hot Rod is going to affect Springer, no matter how much he doesn't want it to."

"Then shouldn't he be the one asking these questions?"

"He won't. He's still too angry and confused. But we need to know. If something happens to Hot Rod and puts Springer out of commission then we need to be able to plan for it." This wasn't strictly true. With the bond broken nothing would happen to Springer physically, as he was implying. None of the Wreckers were sure what the little mech's death would do to his emotional state, however.

First Aid gave up. Roadbuster had a point, and maybe if the triplechanger knew what kind of condition his ex-lover was in he would visit. Maybe Springer's presence would help Hot Rod heal. And yes, First Aid was aware e was grasping at straws. Trying not to think about how angry Ratchet was going to be with him, the little apprentice said,

"Toxicology results show that Hot Rod is allergic to cyanide." He held up his hand to prevent questions. "I know we normally screen mechs for all possible allergens, but in all honesty there are too many that survival rates without an allergy are less than ten percent. Cyanide is one of them, so it's not screened. Anyway, in Roddi's case his systems reacted by absorbing more of the poison –we don't know why yet – and it flooded all of his systems, not just the cooling units and energon lines. It took a long time to find an agent that could neutralize it, and unfortunately the agent is to chemically volatile to be risked cleansing his spark systems with it. So there is still poison in the energon lines feeding his chamber, and in turn his spark. Thank Primus the poison hasn't gotten through the chamber yet, but it's only a matter of time. I just hope we can find another neutralizer before then."

"You don't think it's likely?" The deep rumbling voice of Broadside startled him. First Aid shook his head sadly.

"Perceptor is trying to synthesize one, but nowhere in the medical histories of Cybertron have we run into this problem. There was a case that was similar, but it involved a different poison, and the femme simply waited until it was cycles fully from her spark."

"Why can't the same be done for Hot Rod then? The kid's tough, if you've gotten rid of most of it he can wait out the rest." Even before he finished speaking Topspin could see that it wasn't possibility. Roadbuster released the Protectobot's wrist.

"You don't think he can survive it?" Whirl's voice was sceptic. Hot Rod could deal with a ton of damage; he'd seen the kid in action.

"No," the youngling whispered. "Not with only fragments of a spark to sustain him." Before any more questions could be asked his internal alarm went off, notifying him that he had to be back in the med bay. His break was over. "I have to go." He gathered his empty cube and headed for the door, disposing of it on his way out.

Broadside looked at his friends.

"We need to tell Springer."

\----------

*Note: I realize that in normal circumstances First Aid would never break his privacy oaths. That is something they take very seriously in the medical field (I know – I'm a nurse), but I've been in situations where it is emotionally draining watching a patient who is gravely injured and might not survive. It's hard, and the urge to go tell the family what's going on is always there. My thoughts are that First Aid, while mature, is still a youngling and this is the first time he's had to watch something a painful and drawn out as Hot Rod's possible death. By the end of it he's tired and hurting and wants to talk, especially to the people who might have a chance of convincing Springer to do something


	10. Chapter 10

Ratchet scowled as he straightened out his tools. He fought the urge to go back into ICU Bay – 1. He knew that if he did he would find Hot Rod stretched out on the berth hooked up to life support, energon, processor and spark monitors, and an energon drip. The kid was still in critical condition, but there was nothing more, medically speaking, that could be done for him other than trying to keep him as comfortable and stable as possible. Ratchet didn't like that.

The CMO knew that there was one other procedure that could be done, but it was outside his jurisdiction. It was not a medical procedure, and would require the consent of another, so he knew that he could not push the issue. Pit, he could not even bring it up unless he was asked. Ratchet was seriously considering saying "to hell with it" and mentioning anyway.

With his tools straightened and cleaned he turned back to the speedster's medical report, trying to find something that they could have missed. The allergic reaction had caused Hot Rod's defence systems to work in reverse, and instead of trying to push the poison out it actively absorbed the poison, spreading it to every system, not just the injected ones. They had managed to flush out or neutralize most of the poison in Roddi's body, except for in the systems closest to his spark. Even to a mech with a healthy spark leaving the poison alone could be fatal. Hot Rod, with his fragmented spark had no chance of survival. He also had no chance of suvival if they tried to use the neutralizer. Still Ratchet had seen miracles before. He could only hope the brash young mech would prove to be another one.

The med bay doors slid open, revealing a tall green mech. Ratchet didn't look up.

"I was wondering when you were going to show up." Springer didn't bother answering that. Instead he cut right to the chase.

"What, exactly, is wrong with Hot Rod?" Before Ratchet could reply the doors swung open again and a small grey mech shoved his way past the triplechanger. The doorwinged mech barely spared the Wrecker a glance, but both elder mechs could see the way Bluestreak's hands tightened around the book he was holding.

"Hi Ratchet. I was wonder if I could visit Hot Rod because we're reading the Harry Potter series together and Roddi really likes magic did you know that? We're on the seventh book in the series, well actually we're almost finished with it because we only have five chapters left and since Roddi really likes the book I thought that maybe I could read to him? Please?"

"Go ahead Blue. I'm sure he'd like that."

"Thanks Ratch."Bluestreak disappeared into ICU Bay – 1. The CMO turned his attention back to Springer, but was distracted when the med bay doors opened again, this time admitting Jazz, who was dragging a petulant looking Mirage behind him.

"Sorry to bother you Ratchet, but Mirage here's having some trouble with his electro disrupter. Seems every time he turns it on it gives him a wicked processor ache. Silly mech thought he's just deal with it." Mirage looked at his superior in horror. Everyone knew that you didn't tell the CMO you would rather deal with pain than seek out help. Fortunately for the noble, Ratchet was willing to let it slide. "I need him back in time for our next mission, kay?" Ratchet nodded, already leading the racer over to a berth.

"Alright you, get up there. Springer, I'll deal with you after I've finished up with Mirage. Go sit with Hot Rod until then." The lead Wrecker nodded curtly. He left the main bay and headed to the critical care units. Bluestreak had drawn the privacy curtains. Slowly, Springer peeled a part of it back and slipped inside.

"...Then a figure rose from the Slytherin table and he recognized Pansy Parkinson as she raised..." Bluestreak read quietly. For once he did not ramble; instead the words were clear and concise. Springer stood quietly to the side, listening to the young gunner read. When Bluestreak finished the chapter he closed the book and turned to look at his best friend's mate.

"He's going to die, you know, He fighting for his life right now, fighting hard, but he can't win. Did you know that when you break a bond you have to break part of you're on spark? I didn't know that. Prowl explained it to me. He said that when you purge a spark from your own you are essentially purging a piece of your very being. You were so entwined in Hot Rod's essence that it actually fragmented his spark." Bluestreak still didn't ramble, and his optics were impossibly sad. It was almost like he didn't have the energy to speak in his normal manner. "I think he knew that it would hurt you, drive you away from him if you thought he didn't love you. I think that maybe he thought pushing you away would spare him the pain of his death. Your spark will survive because you're just missing the bond, not the pieces of his spark. He loves you that much. But then again, that wouldn't explain the suicide injections. Unless he didn't know, and was holding out for rescue until the last possible moment." Clearly, Jazz and Prowl had wanted the spare their adopted youngling from the entire horrifying truth. He didn't seem to know about the forced bond. "I don't know. I guess I shouldn't speculate. Only Roddi can tell us what why."

"Bluestreak, can you come join us please? There is something you need to hear." Looking up, both mechs spotted Prowl and Ratchet lingering in the doorway.

The young mech stood. "We're on page 513." He pressed the book into Springer's hands. "Bye."

\----------

Springer sank down into the vacated chair. His mind was in turmoil. First and foremost there was fear. Fear for his ex-mate's life. Next was anger. Hot Rod should have found a better way, damn it! Maybe then this could have been avoided. Immediately following that was guilt. Why hadn't he noticed his mate's fear and pain? Was it because he kept his own side of the bond closed? Over and over these thoughts tumbled in his head. He was no closer to getting an answer now than he first was when the bond was broken. Looking down, he noticed that he had taken Hot Rod's hand in his own. That was another thing. Would he want to reform the bond with Roddi after he was better (Because Hot Rod was not going to die, damn it!)? Could he ever trust him enough for that again? Was he the one in the wrong?

Finally, Springer settled on one conclusion. He was still angry; there was too much hurt there to be pushed away because of Bluestreak's words, but he could ignore it in favour of concern for Hot Rod's life. After that he could worry about the rest. The kid had been right about one thing: only Hot Rod could explain the "why". Springer looked up as Ratchet came back.

"Hot Rod left a message on the encrypted Ops channel. Jazz managed to recover it. This," the medic held up a data chip, "contains the part directed to you." Ratchet pressed the tiny chip into Springer's hands before leaving. The Wrecker stared at it for a long moment before jacking it into his audio port. For a moment the room as silent except for the sound of Hot Rod's goodbyes. When he recording was finished he called for Ratchet.

"Who gave him the cyanide?" Ratchet looked at him strangely. Well, Springer would find out anyway.

"Ops."

"I see." The mech's face was blank. "And there is nothing more that can be done for him?"

"Well, there is one thing, but it's not a medical procedure. If it doesn't work however, it will kill you as well."

"Explain."

"When a patient is terminally ill and has slipped into a coma we can temporarily bring them on line if their will has stated that they wish to say goodbye to their loved ones. Using that idea I could induce Hot Rod into a level of consciousness. If you were to use that time to bond it could stabilize Hot Rod's spark and help him regain the pieces of it he lost when your connection dissolved. It would have the added benefit of draining a minute amount of poison into your spark, which would have only a mild affect on you, given the ratio of your size to the amount of poison. The amount drawn from Hot Rod would increase his chance of survival. However if his spark were to fail during the bonding then he would die and take you with him. Should he survive that and die after your sparks have separated you run the risk of having to live through a second broken bond."

Springer looked at his dying lover. He took a moment to think it over. He had to think of it from a commander's perspective. If he died doing this, how would it affect his team, and the Autobots? Could he live through a second broken bond? In the end though, there could only be one answer. Burning blue optics met Ratchet's.

"Wake him up. Let's do this."

\----------

I don't own Harry Potter. JK Rowling does. The partial quote is from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and can be found on page 490.


	11. Chapter 11

Ratchet's movements were terse. He was honestly unsure if they were doing the right thing. True, he didn't want to lose Hot Rod, he'd never admit it that he liked the kid, but there was so much tension and anger and hurt between Roddi and Springer that he didn't know if renewing the bond would be detrimental or not. Hot Rod was not dependant on his mate, per say, as he could function just fine when Springer was on long term assignments, but he was very emotional. He hid it well, but the CMO had vorns of experience dealing with younglings, and he could always see the hurt in the young mech's optics when Springer shut him out. Oh, he knew that Springer was trying to protect his mate; Ironhide had done the same to Wheeljack at the beginning of their relationship and he had heard from his best friend how painful it was. The mechs just didn't realize it. How would Hot Rod deal if Springer decided that he wanted nothing to do with his mate beyond saving his life? It would devastate the fiery bot. He would likely end up as Smokescreen's patient, instead of his own. Shaking his head, the medic told himself that that didn't matter. His job was to save lives. They could deal with the aftermath later.

At this point there wasn't much he could do to prepare. He had the medical override codes that would bring Hot Rod out of stasis, and after that the young mechs were on their own. That made him nervous, but until it was over he had no further part. He could only sit on the sidelines (or in the other room) and hope for the best. Springer wasn't faring much better.

The triple changer had commed his team to let them know of the situation, although he was as vague as he could be on the details. He could tell that Roadbuster didn't like it, but accepted it. He too wanted to see Roddi get better, he just didn't want to lose Springer should something go wrong. Nevertheless, his team respected his decision. Now he waited tensely for Ratchet to input the codes to wake his mate. Ratchet would explain the process, as they didn't know how he would react to seeing Springer. Besides, the mech would be pretty out of it, and the medic had more experience dealing with patients who could barely function than Springer. He would be able to explain it in a way Hot Rod could understand, even if he was barely aware at the time.

"Are you ready" Ratchet asked. Springer nodded tersely.

"Yes." Turning back to his patient, Ratchet quickly located the medical port and jacked in. With a quick command, he downloaded the code to bring Hot Rod back online. A moment later weak blue optics flickered to life.

"Ra-Ratchet?" Hot Rod could barely speak. Pain was written clearly in his optics.

"Listen to me, Hot Rod. You are very sick. Your spark is dying. We need to stabilize it, but to do that we need to re-instate your bond with Springer."

"Spr-inger hates m-me. He won't-t bond with m-me." Springer flinched. He didn't hate Hot Rod. He was just... intensely angry with him. Even understanding why Hot Rod had done what he did, it didn't negate the anger and spark-deep hurt he felt. But he would have to talk with Hot Rod to resolve these problems. At this point, he wasn't sure they would remain mates, despite the bond. But none of that was important right now. Now, he had to make sure that Hot Rod survived.

Ratchet was concerned. Hot Rod's optics were shifting in and out of focus. He didn't seem to be able to see anything past Ratchet, despite Springer standing right next to him. Deciding not to waste time convincing the young mech that the Wrecker was there, he simply asked, "If Springer wanted to bond with you, would you let him?"

"Y-yes. M-m-miss him so much." Nodding sharply, Ratchet overrode the locks keeping Hot Rod's chassis together. Spark light flickered from within his chest, and Springer moved the block it from Ratchet's view. He took hold of Hot Rod's hand, stroking the back with his thumb. Ratchet shot him an exasperated look.

"He's having a hard time focusing, so he might not recognize you by sight. Be careful." Having delivered his warning, the CMO left the room to give the couple privacy.

Springer stared at Hot Rod's spark. Normally, it was a vibrant, lively, pulsing ball of light. Now it flickered weakly, and Springer could see deep crevasses and scars on its surface. He gently stroked it with one finger. Hot Rod moaned slightly, voice wrought with pain. Tendrils of energy flickered over Springer's finger.

"Sp-Springer?"

"I'm here." he triplechanger said gruffly. Hot Rod called out for him again, optics flicking from side to side, looking for him. It broke Springer's spark to see the normally brash young mech reduced to this. No matter what the future brought, whether they stayed together or not, Springer knew that he had made the right choice. Climbing onto the berth, he straddled the prone mech and opened his own chest plates. Bracing himself, he pressed their sparks together.

Spark merges were normally extremely pleasurable. They occurred at the height of passion and arousal during an interface. They were also extremely painful when outside of interface. And neither Hot Rod nor Springer was remotely aroused. Ratchet had warned the Wrecker that it was going to hurt. Springer wasn't prepared for just how badly it did.

Hot Rod screamed and thrashed as the merge began, before his spark recognized Springer's and he settled down. Springer grit his teeth as burning hot agony rushed through his systems. Instead, he focused on the feel of Hot Rod. The broken strands of the bond reached for the smaller mech, trying to re-forge the bond. Through the frayed ends he could feel his fear and pain; his love and regret that he had hurt his mate; his joy that Springer was with him. He saw glimpses of Hot Rod's life after the bond broke. The Wrecker growled at the images of Vortex and Motormaster, promising himself that the two of them would suffer the next time they met, provided the great brute of a semi was still alive. He thought that Whirl might enjoy having a spare set of rotors; he would just have to neglect to mention that he removed them from the enemy copter's back. Hot Rod laughed weakly at that.

The bond's frayed strands knit themselves together again, and Springer could feel his...mate more strongly. The pain Hot Rod was in was almost unbearable, and he was aware of the poison seeping from Roddi's spark into his own. He was getting weaker, but Roddi was getting stronger. Their energy swirled together in a tumbling mass of pain/heat/fire/pleasure/hurt, before it boiled over into a painful overload. Hot Rod shrieked, back arching up against Springer's heavier chassis, before collapsing like a doll with his strings cut. He lay there, unmoving, and his optics went dark. Springer held on for moments longer, long enough to pull away and close their chassis'. The last thing he saw before everything went dark was Hot Rod's bright, scarred spark, the crevasses now filled with a slightly darker energy. Springer's energy.


	12. Chapter 12

Hot Rod was aware of two things as he woke: a throbbing pain radiating through his body, and the overwhelming sensation of being whole again. The pain he understood. That fact that he could feel Springer in his spark confused him. What had happened? He tried to remember, but he couldn't think of anything beyond the cyanide taking effect.

Forcing his optics online, he was met with the obnoxious orange paint that decorated most of the Ark. The irritating beeping noise that had been on the edge of his awareness was coming from the monitor he was hooked up to. A variety of drips and tubes were hooked up to him, but he didn't know what they were for. He was more concerned with the slumbering form slumped in a chair by his berth. Springer looked relaxed, but Hot Rod knew better. Not only was the triplechanger a light sleeper who would come awake at the slightest noise, Roddy could feel the turmoil over their renewed bond. Profound relief rushed through him; Springer was alive. Yes, he was angry – furious, most like – but that didn't matter. Ratchet's entrance interrupted his thoughts. The young mech fought not to cringe when the medic turned a fierce glare on him.

"Why is it that you never stay under for as long as you need to?" Hot Rod attempted his best cheeky grin.

"What…can I…say Ratch? I miss… seeing your face." The racer's voice was hoarse, and it clearly pained him to talk.

"Well, since you are up, I might as well give you these," he handed Hot Rod a small pile of datapads. Turning the first one on, he saw that it was a get well note from Bluestreak. Roddy assumed that the rest of the pads would be similar. "You gave us quite a scare kid." Looking up, Hot Rod was stunned by the soft look on Ratchet's face. "Don't do it again." Hot Rod nodded. Noticing that Springer had come out of recharge and was watching his mate with unreadable optics, the CMO decided he would give the pair some time to themselves. He could run his scans later. Walking out of the room, Ratchet sincerely hoped that things would work out between the pair.

Tension filled the room as Ratchet left. Hot Rod had been right. Springer was furious. But beneath the anger that pervaded the bond was a spark of something softer. He couldn't tell what it was though; Springer was partially blocking him. Neither said anything for a long moment, until finally the Wrecker stood.

"We will talk when you are better." Spark sinking, Hot Rod nodded. Springer left without another word.

Hot Rod stared at the ceiling, bored. Optimus had stopped in to check on the young soldier, and had commended his dedication to the Autobots. But Hot Rod had also been gently reprimanded, and had had to swear to stay within Autobot territory until Ironhide, who he would begin combat lessons with as soon as he had a clean bill of health, had deemed him properly able to defend himself. Hot Rod had eagerly agreed.

Prowl and Jazz had both stopped in to see him too. Jazz had given him a sorrowful look; he had never wanted the kid to need the cyanide. And then with the allergic reaction…the Head of Ops knew that despite being the one to give Roddy the poison he wasn't at fault for the way things had turned out. Still, he couldn't help but feel a little guilty. But, he supposed, at least Hot Rod was alive and not bonded to that brute of a semi. His sources said that Motormaster had lived, but it would be a long while before he came out of stasis. The gestalt would have a lot of recovering to do from the strain of almost losing their leader. The Constructicons were not medics, and Ratchet and his team were; Motormaster and the rest of his team were still laid up in the medbay. They would be an easy kill for one of Jazz's team. Hot Rod had no idea why Jazz felt the slightest bit guilty. Hot Rod had had a choice, and he was grateful for it. The poison had saved his life.

Prowl had come in with Bluestreak after Jazz had returned to work. He didn't stay long, and had conveyed his wishes for a speedy recovery before he too returned to work, leaving the youngsters to chat. Bluestreak had brought The Deathly Hollows with him. It had been fun, reading with his friend. After Blue had gone other mechs had trickled in, keeping him company. But now it was close to the recharge cycle, and he was alone. Ratchet was nearby, of course, but he was busy doing reports in his office, and Hot Rod didn't want to disturb him. Besides, he was beginning to feel sleepy, and it would probably be a good idea to get some recharge. But he couldn't. Every time he turned off his optics he found himself back in the Decepticon base, staring at Motormaster's terrifying leer. Shuddering, Roddy forced his thoughts away from those memories. He didn't want to think about it. He wanted to wake up and find that it had all been a terrible nightmare, and he would be curled up in Springer's warm arms. He'd only seen glimpses of his ex-lover watching him from the entrance to the medbay. He hadn't even come into his room. Hot Rod desperately missed his mate. For a long while he just stared at the ceiling, his thoughts running in circles. Eventually, his still healing systems forced him to succumb to his exhaustion.

Terrified thoughts flashed through his mind; a hulking mech bearing a black spark, a rotary mech with a predatory leer. Phantom pain rippled across his plating and the smell of spilt energon surrounded him. Springer knew these images were not his own. They were radiating across the bond, partially blocked though it was. Something was wrong with Hot Rod. Without conscious thought, he made his way down to the medbay. A burst of agony and fear had the Wrecker breaking into a run. He burst into the medbay and made a beeline for Roddy's room. He found Hot Rod thrashing wildly, trying to fight off Ratchet and First Aid. He was still in recharge, caught in the grips of a vicious nightmare. Some of the younger mech's wounds had opened, spilling energon onto the berth and floor.

"Hot Rod!" Ratchet yelled. "Hot Rod, wake up! Frag it, he'll bleed out at this rate! Aid, call for security. We need help!"

"No need," Springer's voice surprised the medics. The triplechanger scooped his mate into his arms and settled onto the berth, pulling Roddy so that his back rested against the Wrecker's chassis. Gradually, Hot Rod quit fighting, soothed by the presence of his bondmate's spark. Eventually he went still, the pained expression on his faceplates smoothing into a more relaxed one. He didn't wake when Ratchet and Aid quickly patched up his leaking wounds or when they bid Springer a good night.

It was several hours later that Roddy stirred. He came out of recharge slowly; content to bask in the warmth surrounding him. He cuddled back into the strong body pressed against him before his processor booted up fully. His optics snapped on, meeting the blue of Springer's peering down at him. The flame colored mech struggled to push himself up so that he could face his former lover. Springer let him go.

Hot Rod had no idea what to say. He honestly had not expected to survive his time as a Decepticon guest. He had thought he had done what was best for Springer. Springer clearly disagreed. But he had no idea how to explain to the other mech why he had done what he did.

"Why did you do it, Hot Rod?" Springer's voice was mild. Hot Rod knew that meant that Springer was beyond livid.

"I was trying to protect you." Hot Rod winced. That gleam in his mate's optics did not bode well for him, but he wouldn't back down.

"Protect me, huh? So you felt that they best way to do that was to literally rip open my spark, and break every vow that we had made to each other on the night of our bonding?" Again, his tone was mild.

"No! It was because of those vows that I did it. I swear to love and honor you, to be your strength when you falter and protect you from all that would cause you harm. Remember Springer? I hated that I had to hurt you, but you would have been killed otherwise! What would you have had me do?"

"You should never have kept your capture from me! I would have come after you!" Springer's stony mask cracked, letting Hot Rod see how deep his anger went.

"And that's exactly what I didn't want you to do! They were counting on you coming for me! I may be young, but I'm not stupid Springer! I fragging well know why they targeted me in the first place. To get to you! If you had come after me they would have killed you!"

"So you decided to go with the option that left me alive, but broken, and in the same time opened yourself up to whatever they wanted to do to you. Do you have any idea what would have happened if they had succeeded in forcing the bond? Did you not think about that?"

"No," Hot Rod hissed, "I was more concerned with keeping you alive."

"Primus damn it Hot Rod! I am perfectly capable of looking out for myself, and when I can't I have the Wreckers to watch my back. You on the other hand were alone, and fragging vulnerable. Surely I don't have to spell out what would have been done to you had your little trick with the cyanide not succeeded."

"Yes, I know what would have happened. And yes, I never thought that Decepticons could stoop so low as to force a bond. I wasn't thinking that far ahead. All I cared about was knowing that you would live. Frag it Springer, They never meant for me to come out of there alive. And when they killed me I would have taken you down with me too. I couldn't let that happen."

"So you took the choice away from me?" Hot Rod looked stunned. That lasted only for a moment, before true anger replaced it.

"Maybe I did. Primus, Springer, you, above all, should understand why. After all, you do the same to me every time you go on a mission. I get that you want to protect me, so as much as I hate it when you block me out, so I don't complain even though I hate it. I get it. Why the frag can't you see that that's all I was trying to do for you! I wanted to protect you, and I couldn't see another way!" Springer froze. It was true; he did often shut out his mate while he was on missions. He didn't want Roddy to feel backlash through their bond if he was hurt. He did it to protect the younger mech. Looking at it that way, he could see where the younger mech was coming from, could see the reasons behind his actions. He hadn't realized that Hot Rod felt so strongly about being shut out when Springer was away, but he could clearly see the hurt in his lover's optics. That didn't negate the anger and pain that the younger's actions had caused, but it did break through the rage clouding his processor. Sighing, he let his shoulders slump slightly. He didn't want to fight right now, and he could see that Hot Rod was beginning to have trouble focusing. Fire still burned in his optics as he looked at the larger mech with his arms crossed, but Springer could see them start to glaze over. Primus, he was tired.

Reaching out, he wrapped his arms around Hot Rod and pulled the smaller form against him. Roddy flailed, before realizing that he wasn't being attacked. Spinger laid back, the race car wrapped securely in his arms. Confusion turned to tentative hope as Hot Rod snuggled back into the warm embrace.

"This isn't over," Springer warned. "I am still absolutely furious with you, but neither of us is in any shape to fight right now. We will continue this tomorrow." The Wrecker shut off his optics, indicating that the conversation was over. Despite the harsh words, Roddy was hopeful. He knew that Springer was right; that this wasn't over. There was too much anger and hurt between them still to be magically fixed by one night spent in each other's arms. But this was the first time in cycles that he had been so close to his mate. And for Springer to shut down in his presence indicated that he still had some level of trust for Hot Rod. He knew that they had many cycles ahead of them of hard work if they wanted to fix their fractured bond, but at least they had that chance. And Hot Rod was willing to do whatever it took to fix what they had broken. Stretching up slightly, he pressed a soft kiss to his slumbering mate's cheek before curling further into his warmth and drifting off into recharge. The future would come soon enough; tonight he wanted to recharge peacefully with his Wrecker.

The End


End file.
